


Backslide

by PippaLovesTunaBrick (SevralShips)



Category: The Bright Sessions (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, But not that much of consequence is different, Damien kidnaps Adam in Safe House, Fluff, M/M, Not a Damien redemption story sorry not sorry, Not necessarily TIN or TCT compliant, Smut in the last chapter, TW: Self Harm, TW: underage sexytimes, implied Wadsworth/Joan but I wasn't brave enough to go there, multiple POVs, ultimately this is just a Caleb/Adam story and a love letter to The Bright Sessions in general
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 58,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27564439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SevralShips/pseuds/PippaLovesTunaBrick
Summary: It had been three days and Adam still wasn’t home.He wasn’t just not home, he was missing. Caleb’s mind struggled to even wrap around the information that someone could simply be there one moment, and then just like that — poof! — be lost.Of course Caleb knew that people went missing, that it was a thing. He wasn’t an idiot or something. He wasn’t fucking naive. But in his entire life up till now, missing people had been strangers, faces he saw briefly on flyers or milk cartons or on the news. They weren’t supposed to be people he knew.They weren’t fucking supposed to be Adam.He’d said something to that effect yesterday, when he’d paid a visit to Adam’s parents. He’d been disturbed by Adam’s mom’s observation that that was probably how every missing person’s family felt; like it wasn’t supposed to have happened to them. It pained Caleb to even think about it, as if his empathy somehow extended to thousands of people he didn’t even know existed, all of their pain magnifying his own.Obligatory 'what if Damien succeeded in kidnapping Adam' fic that ran treacherously out of the author's control
Relationships: Adam Hayes/Caleb Michaels, Caleb Michaels & Chloe Turner, Damien & Adam Hayes, Joan Bright & Caleb Michaels, Mark Bryant/Damien
Comments: 17
Kudos: 47





	1. Taken

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is the product of my binging The Bright Sessions in a couple weeks and having no one to talk to about it. What was meant to be an angsty drabble/thought experiment grew into a nearly 60k fic with POVs of characters I hadn't even originally planned to write.
> 
> The whole thing is written (albeit unbeta'd) but I'll stagger posting a little.
> 
> Some of this chapter is lifted directly from Ep 39/Ep 40

_November 11, 2016_

**~Mark~**

It all escalated too fast, and maybe that shouldn’t have been a surprise, given so much stress and so many atypicals under one roof. 

Mark felt like his head was going to explode, trying to contain everyone’s chaotic thoughts via Chloe’s ability as everyone’s emotions crowded into his body, amplified through the prism of Caleb’s protective rage. His feet remained planted where he stood because Damien didn’t want anyone to interfere with his misbegotten kidnapping scheme, but he could _feel_ how tenuous Damien’s hold on the reins was, too many people resisting him too hard for him to stay in control, “Damien,” he cautioned, “You can’t keep us all in line forever, you’re straining it already. Just _leave_.”

“I will,” Damien said, approaching Adam where he still stood by Caleb’s side, visibly conflicted, “But he’s coming with me.”

“No way,” Caleb stepped in front of Adam, his anger and the collective anger in the room blazing.

“Ooh, look,” Damien mocked, “The big, scary boy can move. Whoop-dee-doo.” 

“Get away from Adam,” Caleb warned. His anger seemed to tower out of him, growing fierce and unwieldy, causing Mark’s fists to curl at his sides. Damien — the insufferable fucking idiot — couldn’t seem to resist taunting Caleb. Mark could feel it all, Damien’s jealousy and desperation leaving him undaunted in the face of Caleb’s rage. The force of it chafed against Damien’s already over-extended control, Mark’s head spinning at all the frantic thoughts spilling into his head, feelings stuffing his chest. He could feel his own control slipping.

“You’re so mad — look at your little face,” Damien was teasing, carried away and showing so signs of intimidation at the obvious physical signs of Caleb’s fury. Mark marveled, as he had at times during the mindfuck roadtrip from hell, how Damien trusted his ability so much that he could be downright flippant about his own safety. Caleb might be a decade younger than him, but he was also considerably larger and in much better shape, “God, you’re practically shaking!” Damien sneered directly at Caleb as he extended a hand past him towards Adam, “Well, I’d love to stay and watch you furrow your brow some more, but we’ve got an auntie to go visit. Come now, Adam.”

Mark could hear the all-too-familiar obedience in Adam’s thoughts as his hand twitched up towards Damien’s, “Adam, don’t listen to him—” Chloe cut in, of course privy to the same information.

Adam cringed apologetically, and Mark could feel his fear and anger at himself powerfully, “I— I can’t—” he said as Damien’s fingers closed around his.

“If you do anything to him, I _swear—_ ” Caleb threatened desperately.

“Aah, don’t worry, big guy, I just need to get his aunt’s attention,” Damien said, adding like a twist of a knife, “I’ll only hurt him a little.” 

Mark felt the murderous tumult of rage move through Caleb as if it were his own, knew it would be happening the split-second before it did when Caleb’s fist collided with Damien’s face. Damien staggered a step back, releasing his hold of Adam’s hand, his own hands raising too slowly to protect his face from a second punch. The third knocked him to the ground, Caleb snarling in blind fury, “ _You’re not gonna touch him_.”

One of Caleb’s fists landed firmly in Damien’s stomach and over top of the swirling tempest of emotions, Mark tasted something new. Acerbic and sharp, bringing back memories of feeling it with other empaths in some of The AM’s more merciless experiments. Fear, primal animal fear for survival. It registered that it was Damien’s fear — fear for his life — and by the time it did, Mark had already acted, surprised by the intense swell of protective need that was not Caleb’s but his own.

Caleb fell away from Damien, as if he’d forced himself to stop, collapsing to the floor, shaking, panting, groaning. A note of fear peaked brighter than the rest as Adam squeaked, “Caleb? Babe?”

Damien dragged himself to his feet, his face bloody and rapidly bruising as Sam and Joan rushed to Caleb’s side, “What did you do to him, Damien?” Joan demanded.

“What did _I_ do to _him_?” Damien repeated, incredulous. His eyes flicked to Mark’s for the space of an instant but it was enough. He knew, they both knew. A flicker of smugness crossed Damien’s expression at this confirmation that Mark could not stand by and watch him beaten to death. As if that proved anything. 

Mark shook his head, and Damien's attention shifted back to Joan, “I didn’t do squat to your pet empath, Dr. B,” Mark felt the whiplike slap of Damien’s will, sloppy and desperate as he pinned them all in place and kept them quiet. He turned to Adam — whose eyes were bright with frantic worry as he watched Caleb’s inert form — and beckoned crudely, “You, with me, _now_.” They could do little more than watch as Adam marched obediently out of the house with Damien. They heard a car engine start, tires crunch out of the gravel driveway and away. As the car left earshot, Damien’s power over them slackened and finally released.

“Somebody should follow them!” Sam was saying as she felt for Caleb’s pulse and pushed his hair out of his eyes, “Joan? Mark?”

At the sound of his name, Mark drew in a shuddering breath, “Fuck,” he muttered, feeling a wave of formless panic rise in him, “ _Fuck._ ” he hadn’t meant to use Damien’s power, hadn’t meant to intervene at all, but…

“It’s okay, Mark.” Chloe reassured, though she sounded a little woozy.

Beside her, Frank shook his head, saying with grim realism, “We’ll never catch up to them, not if he doesn’t want us to.”

“Frank's right,” Joan frowned, "If Damien doesn't want to be pursued…" she trailed off, gingerly examining the bruised and split knuckles of Caleb’s right hand. _I was supposed to protect them,_ Mark heard her thoughts crystal clear, more familiar and easier to follow than anyone else’s, _I said he was safe. I said I wouldn’t let anything happen to them._

“I’m sorry, Joanie.” Mark said, feeling the weight of all of Joan’s guilt heap upon his shoulders. He didn’t know how much of it was a result of Caleb’s empathy and how much of it was his own guilt. He was the one who had failed. The only one who could intervene and a whole lot of good it had done anyone when his wants apparently chose to protect the wrong person and not the innocent _kids_ in their care.

Joan’s head shot up, eyes finding his like a magnet, “What?” she said, and worry for him consumed her thoughts, usurping worry for anyone else, “Mark, why are you sorry?”

“He used Damien’s power,” Chloe explained weakly, glancing at Mark to confirm, “Didnt you?” Mark gave an infinitesimal nod.

“Just now?” Joan asked, brow furrowing.

Chloe nodded, “He stopped Caleb, or, um, I guess he wanted Caleb to stop which made Caleb want to stop?”

“I, I didn’t mean to,” Mark stammered, “I _had_ to, fuck, he was gonna kill him.”

“Would that be _so terrible_ ?” Sam muttered ruthlessly, and Mark flinched away from the confusion and jealousy coming off of her in waves, the way her thoughts spiraled around the axis of _how was Damien the one in need of protection? Is he really the most important to Mark?_

“Sam!” Joan chastised, "You don’t mean that."

“I… I guess I don’t, I’m sorry, I’m just…” neither Chloe nor Mark verbalized Sam’s internal debate with herself about whether or not she had meant what she said.

“Caleb doesn’t need that blood on his hands.” Frank pointed out gravely, and that seemed to bring Sam’s spiral back to reality.

“I know.” she admitted, shoulders slumping.

“Speaking of which,” Joan said, still cradling Caleb’s hand between hers, “Sam, do you have a first aid kit?”

Sam nodded and scurried from the room, and Mark felt guilty for being relieved to have a break from hearing her anxious thoughts. A warm hand found his arm and he found Frank beside him, “You did the right thing, Mark.” he said.

Mark gave a tense, humorless laugh, “But did I, though, actually?” he asked, his fears taking shape as he spoke them aloud, “Now he… Damien’s got Adam and he’s just a kid and I, _I know_ what it’s like to be Damien’s prisoner but at least… Fuck, _he’s just a kid_ , and, and Wadsworth—”

“Wadsworth won’t let any harm come to Adam.” Joan said firmly as Sam returned with a plastic first aid kit in hand.

“That woman—” Mark began, confused by the muddled wave of Joan’s thoughts about her former boss and friend, stomach turning as _Ellie will be so disappointed in me_ swirled past in the mess of his sister's conflicting emotions.

“Will _not_ let Damien get away with this.” she finished for him.

Mark tugged at his hair, feeling helpless and hopelessly overwhelmed at the thought of Damien at Wadsworth’s mercy, “ _Jesus_ , Joanie, is that supposed to make me feel better?”

Caleb picked that moment to groan, shifting everyone’s attention to him. It didn’t escape Mark’s notice that Joan’s feelings of responsibility and worry towards the teenage empath closely resembled the way she felt about him, “Caleb,” she asked gently, “How are you feeling?”

Caleb gave another groan, eyes blinking open blearily, “D-Dr. Bright? What are you—?” the question evaporated as he remembered where he was, sitting bolt upright, “Adam! Where’s Adam?”

“Caleb,” Sam said, her brain unhelpfully dredging up memories of soldiers Caleb’s age and younger, muddy and bloody and beyond her help, “Lie back down,” she all but begged, “We don’t know if you’re—”

“Where the fuck _is he_?” Caleb demanded, brushing Sam off and looking around feverishly, his nose wrinkling, “Why do, ugh, why does everyone feel so...guilty?” He groaned again, pressing his bruised fingers to his forehead.

“Caleb, maybe you should take a moment to—” Joan cautioned.

“NO!” Caleb roared, the volume of his voice causing everyone to flinch, “Stop it, just… everyone stop it! Stop _coddling_ me, my head hurts a little but I’m _fine._ ” An uneasy silence fell over them for a few seconds before Caleb said, awash with defeat, “Damien took him.” _I failed oh my god I was supposed to protect him and I failed-_

“Caleb, it isn’t your fault.” Chloe said, the thoughts to that effect ringing loud and clear in Mark’s head, too.

“That’s what happened, right?” Caleb asked, ignoring Chloe, “You all let Damien take him. Fucking hell, you’re… _adults_ with, most of you have _superpowers_ and you still—?” Caleb’s chest was heaving quickly as he began to hyperventilate.

“We’ll get him back, son,” Frank soothed, drifting away from Mark to Caleb, “Don’t forget to breathe.”

“Just like we practiced, Caleb.” Joan offered tearfully.

Caleb took a few deep breaths before hopping suddenly to his feet, running his fingers through his hair, his thoughts too scattered for Mark to follow, “I… I just need some air.”

“Don’t—” Joan began.

“I’m _not_ going anywhere,” Caleb bit out sharply, “I… I just need some fucking space, all your feelings and…” he sucked in a shaky breath, “Just, let me do this, okay?”

Joan nodded stiffly, “Okay.”

No one said anything as Caleb crossed the room and stepped out of the door through which Damien had led Adam moments before. The door shut behind him, but none of the tension left the room with him. Mark bristled as Joan’s thoughts resumed their natural pattern of planning, pointing in a direction that every fiber of his being resisted.

“So,” Sam said softly, “What are we going to do?”

Joan shook her head as if she had no ideas, “I… don’t know. There isn’t a clear path. We… we could…” she glanced guiltily at Mark.

“Go ahead, Joanie,” Mark said, some of his bitterness bleeding into his tone, “You might as well say it, I already know you’re thinking it.”

“Sorry…” Chloe said.

Joan visibly steeled herself, straightening her back where she still knelt on the floor near where Caleb had been, “We… I think we need to tell Ellie.” Mark scoffed, and she went on, “I know you don’t like it, but, for Adam’s sake—”

“ _Don’t like it_ ?” Mark interrupted hotly, “Joan, that woman is a _monster—_ ”

“I think your sister is right,” Frank said, diplomatically, “There’s no love lost between me and The AM, but I got the feeling Wadsworth would do anything to keep that boy—”

“No!” they all jumped at the sudden shrill cry from Chloe.

Frank was at her side in a heartbeat, “Chlo—?”

“Caleb, no, it’s Caleb, he—!” Chloe raised her voice as if to be heard through the door, “Don’t do it!”

Mark was close behind Frank in rushing to the door, the mix of fear and hope coming from Caleb hitting them even before they had it open. Mark wasn’t sure what to expect, part of him fearing the worst, that they shouldn’t have left Caleb alone, that in his distraught state he might have done something to hurt himself. Instead they found him pacing the porch with his phone pressed to his ear. Frank gave a sigh of relief and called back inside, “He’s fine.”

Chloe groaned, “He called, didn’t he? I can hear him wishing for Adam to pick up.”

Mark followed Chloe’s train of thought now, the impossibility that Damien would let Adam chat with his boyfriend, “He’s not going to pick up.” he said, bleakly as Caleb lowered the phone from his ear with a desolate look on his face.

  
  
  


**~Adam~**

“Where are you taking me?” Adam managed to ask, his tongue finally obeying him. He’d wanted to scream, to shout, to argue, but until now it hadn’t been enough to overcome the alien desire to be quiet and cooperative that he had to assume Damien had planted in his head.

“Disneyland.” Damien responded tersely, his raspy voice blunted around the edges by the way blood was flowing from his injured nose.

“Annabelle will find us.” Adam pointed out, tilting his chin up defiantly. He wasn't exactly bluffing, but the prospect didn’t actually hold much comfort for him; his own feelings about Annabelle hadn’t recovered from the revelation that she was apparently not the high-powered executive he’d always assumed, but something a little closer to some kind of supervillain from _X-Men._

“No shit, kiddo,” Damien drawled, “That’s the point,” his fingers gripped the steering wheel tightly, giving away some tension, "Believe it or not, you're not in this car right now because I wanted some company."

“She’s not going to—” Adam snapped, his voice dying in his throat with a choked whimper as the car was suddenly filled with muffled music. Damien held out his hand and didn’t say a word, but Adam suddenly wanted nothing in the world more than to dig his phone out of his pocket and hand it over. The tinny chorus of _Grade 8_ looped and Adam glimpsed the familiar contact name ‘Meathead💚’ and the photo of Caleb’s endearingly hesitant smirk for a second before Damien’s fingers closed around the phone. The song continued to play as Damien rolled down the window without taking his eyes off the road, and the fog in Adam’s mind cleared enough for him to squeak out, “No! Don’t!” in the instant before his phone was chucked from the car. An icy bolt of fear shot through Adam’s core, and for the first time since leaving the (not so) safe house, it dawned on him that he had _actually_ been kidnapped and he might be in _actual_ fucking danger.

“No dice, kid,” Damien said as he closed the window, shuttng out the chill of the November night, “I’ll grant you, that little boyfriend of yours can throw one hell of a punch, but he can’t help you now.”

The fear in Adam’s gut flared into affronted anger, “You don't have to say it like that.” he snipped.

“Like what?” Damien asked flatly, nonplussed.

“I dunno, like it's a fucking _joke_ ,” Adam seethed with a sudden need to defend his relationship, “Like being gay is inherently a punchline or something. It’s 2016, _come on_! Caleb and I love each other and that's more than a homophobic sociopa—”

“Shut up." Damien said and Adam obeyed, his mouth closing mid-word as if Damien had physically reached over and shoved his jaw shut. Despite the increasingly familiar urge towards compliance in his head, Adam glared at Damien fiercely, hoping his eyes could say what his tongue could not. Damien’s eyes flicked to him for a second before returning to the road, his head giving a barely perceptible shake as he said, “You don't know shit about me, kid.”

The force of outside will that held Adam's mouth shut did not let up for a several more minutes, but even when it did, his teeth remained gritted tightly with impotent anger. He glared at the man's profile, a little shaken by the depths of his own rage. He felt a sudden stab of guilt, knowing that the ferocity of his own rage was partly responsible for the way Caleb had lost control. Caleb has worked so hard to get the better of his anger issues, to learn to live with his ability without overloading and lashing out. He had always insisted that Adam’s feelings weren’t a burden, that they _helped_ , but when push had come to shove, he had been totally useless, tugged like a ragdoll by Damien’s ability and able only to summon a deep and unproductive rage.

Adam was no empath, but he could practically feel how much Caleb must be freaking out right now, as the distance between them grew and the only way they might have reached each other lay somewhere shattered in the road behind them. The car passed under a streetlight and the damage that Caleb's fists had done to Damien's face was briefly visible and despite his hatred and fear, Adam flinched with sympathy at the sight. It looked like it really had to hurt, "How’s your face?" he asked quietly, not sure when Damien had stopped keeping him from speaking.

Damien’s eyebrows twitched slightly, as if he hadn’t been expecting the question, “‘S’not my first rodeo.” he said a bit stiffly.

Adam watched him for a moment more, and then couldn’t resist asking, "As innnn it's not the first time someone has beaten you up, or it's not the first time you deserved it?" 

Damien snorted a chuckle, wincing as it pulled at his face, "Both, if you must know," he conceded as they came to a red light. He glanced at Adam in the passenger seat, and the glow of the traffic light made the blood on his face look even more dire, "You're spunkier than I remembered." he observed.

"Yeah, well, it's not like you took the time for icebreaker questions before kidnapping me, so...” Adam looked away from Damien out the windshield, making a mental note of the street signs at the intersection even though he really doesn’t know where the fuck they are. He can feel Damien’s eyes on him and it makes his skin a bit crawly, but he refuses to look scared, even though he is. It seems like a year ago that he admitted to Caleb in the sparsely furnished bedroom at the safe house that he was actually terrified but putting on a brave face. His heart gave a throb of yearning at the memory of how they had both sought comfort in a long, tight hug, and he wondered catastrophically if he would ever feel the safety and comfort of Caleb’s embrace again. Was he ever going to see him again, or his parents, or _anyone?_ If Annabelle didn't cooperate, would Damien just _kill him?_ As the worst case scenario unspooled in his head, Adam wondered how he would do it, if he would just make Adam not want to breathe anymore or...?

Damien’s voice and words caught him off guard as he said, conversationally, “I’m not a homophobe.”

“If you say so.” Adam said, unconvinced and honestly not hung up on it either way.

“I’m _not._ ” Damien insisted and Adam could feel the invasive press of his desire to be believed.

"Ugh, _fine_ , I believe you, okay? You don't have to do that Jedi mind trick bullshit!” Adam counters, “You know it doesn't even _matter_ , you could be like a big advocate for gay rights or whatever, but it's not like it would redeem the sociopath repeat-kidnapper bit."

"How disappointing, you sound just like Dr. B," Damien said, “She’s no saint, you know?”

“Yeah, well, Dr. Bright has never kidnapped or manipulated anyone,” Adam argued, “So, I dunno, it’s still kinda looking like you’re the bad guy.”

“Things ain't that black and white, kiddo,” Damien growled, and for some reason that made Adam madder than anything yet, as if he hadn't written two essays this year about the moral ambiguity of characters in stuff they'd read for English.

“I'm a teenager, not an _idiot,"_ Adam declared, "I'm aware people are complicated, but manipulating—”

“Dr. B can actually be one seriously manipulative bitch, for what it's worth,” he gave a mirthless laugh, “Between you and me, it's lucky she isn’t the one with my ability.”

“Right,” Adam snarked, trying mightily to cling to his defiance to keep from spiraling again into despair, “Because you're putting it to such good use.”

“Ya know what, kid, I think you could use a nap,” Damien said briskly. Adam opened his mouth to argue that there was no way he was letting his guard down like that, but all that escaped was a yawn, “Yeah, see, you’re real tuckered out, aren’t you? Had a big day.”

“I,” Adam struggled to keep his eyes open, admitting around a yawn, “I guess I am kinda sleepy,” he had the vague notion that there was something he needed to stay awake for, but whatever it was, it wasn’t as compelling as the desire to sleep that suffused him.

  
  


_November 12, 2016_

**~Ellie~**

It was well after midnight when the phone finally rang. Normally Ellie would have gone to bed promptly at ten, and by now already be in REM sleep. It wasn’t that Ellie’s body was a temple — though an argument to that effect could certainly be made — but it was a crucial tool. She couldn’t afford to have the tool wear out, therefore, she took attentive and consistent care of it in an effort to prolong its usefulness.

There were exceptions, though, of course, as there were to every rule, and Ellie had always been good at identifying when a rule needed to be broken. And there were some things that were prioritized much higher than how many sleep cycles she got in a night. Not many, if she were to be completely honest with herself, but some. And one of them was currently compromised and beyond her reach. So she was awake.

Apart from all that, she always had difficulty sleeping in other people’s houses. Even Rebecca’s house. But it had been important to stay together, she wanted to be close by when the phone inevitably rang. She wanted to be able to overhear her nephew’s voice as he assured his parents that he was okay.

Ellie knew this was not that call. For one thing, it was not her sister or brother-in-law’s phone. It was _her_ phone that was ringing. Her _work cell_. Joan’s name on the screen in the darkened living room was practically proof on its own that the news would not be good.

“What’s happened, Joan?” she answered. 

The answer did not come instantly. It was a brief pause, but it spoke volumes. Joan was a stubborn woman, often tiresomely so, she wouldn’t be calling at all if she didn’t have a damn good reason, “Ellie, I—”

“Damien found you.” Ellie deduced from Joan’s tone.

“Yes.” Joan confirmed.

“He took Adam?” Ellie’s eyes bore into the darkness, in the direction of the photos of Adam across from her on the mantel. She couldn’t see them in the darkness, but she trusted that they were there. Just as she had forced herself to accept that Adam was safe in Joan’s keeping, even if she did not know where.

“...yes.” Joan said again, the word exhaled wearily into the phone’s microphone.

“I seem to recall you saying that he was _safe_.” Ellie said in a clipped tone, just barely stuffing down the hindbrain instinct to roar.

“Ellie, I thought— I tried—” Joan stammered out. Ellie’s eyes widened slightly, noting the uncharacteristically frantic edge to her voice, usually schooled to such an impenetrable-yet-approachable therapist calm.

“It doesn’t matter,” Ellie interrupted, “How long has it been since you lost him?”

Joan was quiet for a second, but Ellie did not know if she was cringing or checking her watch, “A-about twenty minutes.”

“You should have called me twenty minutes ago,” Ellie chastised, reaching over to turn on the lamp beside the couch, “Every second counts when a child is abducted.”

“I-I don’t think Damien will hurt him.” Joan said.

“You also _thought_ you could provide him with the necessary protection in the first place,” Ellie pointed out, “Seeing how well that has gone, I confess I don’t place too much faith in your _hunches_ right now, Dr. Bright.”

“Of course, El— Director.” Ellie frowned to herself at hearing Joan correct herself, even if she had done it first. 

The call went quiet for a moment, as Ellie removed her phone from her cheek to alert key surveillance and security personnel that there was a situation. With that done, she returned the phone to her ear, “Is Caleb alright?” she asked.

“What?” Joan sounded dumbfounded.

“Caleb,” Ellie said, “Your pet empath? My nephew’s boyfriend? As I understand he was also in your so-called protection, but seeing as that failed to keep—”

“Caleb’s fine,” Joan interrupted sharply, her voice softening uncertainly as she elaborated, “He… I mean, he’s frightened and distressed, but more or less intact.”

“ _‘More or less_ ’?” Ellie repeated. She didn’t really care about the boy, but it would be very complicated if anything happened to him.

“He punched Damien a few times before M— before Damien’s power forced him back.” Ellie blinked at the slip in Joan’s speech. Mark, surely she had been about to say Mark. It really didn’t matter at the moment. With a practiced series of taps, Ellie began recording the call. She really should have done so earlier, but those were the kind of slip-ups one risked when they skipped out on a good night’s sleep.

“Good,” Ellie said, “I’m glad to hear _somebody_ was trying to protect my nephew.”

“Ellie—” Joan began to protest.

“Tell me what happened, Joan,” Ellie said, “I want to know the whole story. And don’t even think about leaving anything out. My nephew is in danger and you would do well to give me any _and all_ pertinent information.”

Joan hesitated for a second and then began to explain.

**~Adam~**

Adam spent most of his first day in captivity asleep. He supposed it wasn’t too hard for Damien to influence him to sleep when he had been too freaked to sleep a wink the night before, but by the second day that had changed. No amount of supernatural persuasion was going to convince Adam’s body that it could stand another second of sleep. When he saw Damien cramming his feet into his beat-up black converse, he reached for his own shoes, assuming (hoping) that maybe the time had finally come for Damien to return him to his aunt’s custody in exchange for whatever-the-fuck shady atypical thing it was that he was gunning for.

“Hold up,” Damien said, however, when he caught sight of Adam following his example, “Sorry, kid, no field trips.”

Adam groaned, “What kind of plan is this? Kidnap me and then just _bore_ me to death until Annabelle gives you what you want?”

Damien scowled, “You know, you could try for a little _gratitude_. I could be, like, actually torturing you or whatever.”

“Yeah, wow, thanks,” Adam scoffed. He wasn’t normally petulant with adults but there was literally nothing normal about this situation. And the boring empty hours left way too much room for his brain to discover new nooks and crannies within his fear and helplessness, “It’s really magnanimous of you to not torture a minor.”

He probably imagined it, but he could have sworn that Damien almost cracked a smile at the quip, “Yeah, well, the day is young, kiddo. Plenty of hours left for torture and blackmail,” without giving Adam any time to respond to that, he opened the door and shot him a fingergun, saying firmly, “Don’t go anywhere.” Adam wrinkled his nose at the already-familiar feeling of Damien’s mind shoving into his own, ungentle and ill-fitting within his already crowded skull. He'd never really understood before when Caleb had described other people's feelings as 'not fitting inside him' but now he thought he had a better idea. If it was anything like the sensation of being under Damien's influence, he didn't know how Caleb could stand living that way. He was a stronger man than him, but then, it wasn't as if that was news.

Then the door shut behind Damien, and suddenly Adam found himself alone.

He stared after his kidnapper for a few breathless seconds before his body seemed to remember how much it had to freak out about. He’d been keeping his cool in front of Damien, as if he was unfrightened and unbothered by the entire ordeal, refusing to allow the man the satisfaction of having any sense of more power over him. It was bad enough that he _literally_ had power over him. But now, alone for the first time and away from Damien’s shrewd gaze, Adam’s facade crumbled. He sucked in shuddering, uneven breaths, his ribs much too tight around his heart. His hand went automatically into his pocket for his phone, though of course it wasn’t there. There was no music or mindless mobile games to self-soothe with, no comforting backlog of texts with Caleb to read over, no internet full of information for him to lose himself in. Just him and his thoughts alone in the bachelor pad of his unhinged captor.

Damien had been joking, surely, about torturing him. Right? How could he honestly be sure? Damien hadn’t done anything to physically harm him since he’d been in his keeping, but that didn’t prove a thing. This was the second time in how many months that he’d fucking kidnapped someone, and his whole schtick was exploiting people by hijacking their personal agency, so, like… there was really nothing to suggest that he was in any way _above_ torturing a hostage.

Adam tried to take hold of himself, to utilize the type of breathing exercises that his therapist had taught him to use when he felt the urge to self-harm. This was not at all that kind of spiral, though, and it didn’t do much good. He tried the mindfulness exercises that Dr. Bright had taught Caleb, but it was a similar problem. The issue right now was not that he had too little value for his well-being, nor that he was too caught in outside stimuli and had lost sight of himself. If anything, it was quite the opposite. 

Ultimately, he hugged his knees and shed a few desperate tears against his thighs, and prayed to the god he didn’t really believe in that he wasn’t actually looking forward to an afternoon of torture. After a moment, he pulled himself together, crossed to the sink in the kitchen that appeared to have never been cooked in and splashed some cold water on his face. As he dried his face with one of the slightly crumpled paper napkins on the counter, he heard a key engage the lock of the front door and rushed to stuff the damp napkin into his pocket in some weird animal instinct to show no weakness.

“Adam?” Damien’s voice called into the apartment, the note of fear not escaping Adam’s notice. Had he been worried that he’d strayed far enough that his hold on Adam might not be strong enough, Adam wondered. It was followed immediately by a horrible thought; _had_ Damien’s hold on him loosened without him taking notice? Had he completely missed an opportunity to run away?

“Oh,” Adam said, slipping back into the armor of nonchalance as Damien’s face peeked around the corner into the kitchen, “You learned my name, then.”

Damien rolled his eyes and held up a plastic bag emblazoned with a 7-11 logo, “Not only have I learned your name, I have acquired some sustenance with your name on it.”

Entirely despite himself, Adam laughed. He questioned for a second whether he’d laughed because Damien _wanted_ him to laugh, but for better or worse, he was pretty sure that the dumb statement had just genuinely struck him as funny. Maybe the tension was getting to him. Or the fact that this was the first time he’d had access to food since he’d been trying to make sense of the extremely convoluted rule pamphlet to the game _Huggermugger_ the previous night. He accepted the bag from Damien, saying, “Thank you.” before he could remind himself to be a brat.

**~Damien~**

“Thank you.” Adam said, and Damien watched as the boy carefully unearthed the contents of the bag and laid them out on the kitchen counter.

“Don’t mention it.” he said, caught off guard by the pleasantry. Honestly, he had no fucking clue what to make of Wadsworth’s nephew. Admittedly, he’d kept him asleep for most of the time he’d had him so far, but that was mainly because, as it turned out, he didn’t know the first thing about how to interact with an average teenager. He’d been a teenager himself once, of course, but he’d hardly been typical, pun intended. As he watched Adam catalogue the food items, he wondered if maybe this boy — whose aunt, parents, and boyfriend were all tangled up in the messy world of atypicals — wasn’t the prime example of normal.

Adam looked up and met his gaze, frowning suspiciously, “Are you gonna stand there and watch me eat?”

Damien shrugged, “Are you gonna eat or just play with your food?” he countered.

Adam’s frown deepened, “I’m not playing with it.” he said, then seemed to think better of finishing his statement, attention turning back down to the counter.

“What are you doing then?” Damien asked. When no answer was forthcoming, he gave Adam a little mental nudge.

“I’m rationing.” Adam elaborated honestly.

“Do you think I’m going to withhold food?” Damien asked, extending his desire for truthful answers.

Adam hesitated, resisting Damien’s power. It was impressive, actually. Apart from Dr. B, the kid had shown just about the strongest willpower of any non-atypical Damien had encountered. Still, with a little push, he offered the explanation Damien wanted, “I don’t know what to think,” Adam confessed, “I don’t know what you would or wouldn’t do, but I know that humans can survive about a month without food and can survive months with very little to eat, so, rationing.”

“Jeeze, kid, lighten up,” Damien said, withdrawing his will, “I don’t have any designs to starve you. How do you even know that shit?”

Adam shrugged as he tore open a bag of chips, “I’m a dork,” he proclaimed, an inexplicable flash of some sentimental something-or-other on his face as he identified himself as such, “And I basically didn’t have any friends until a year ago, which left plenty of time for indulging my morbid curiosity.”

“Huh,” Damien said, surprised by an echo of his own earlier years, an acute understanding of teenage loneliness and the darker thoughts that tended to lay down roots there, “Apple doesn’t fall too far from the tree in the Wadsworth clan, then, does it?”

Adam pulled a face as if the chip he’d just popped into his mouth tasted like sour milk, “That’s not her real name, and it’s not my name. And me reading the wiki article about starvation is really not the same… as…” he stuffed a handful of chips in his mouth in an obvious excuse not to delve into the specifics of Wadsworth’s work with The AM. Damien wondered how much he even _knew_.

“She is one sick puppy,” he said airily, “To hear Mark tell it, she’s barely even human, just—”

“Is this how it was with Mark?” Adam interrupted. It wasn’t much of a question, but to Damien it was as if Adam had just kicked him while he was down and laughed about it.

“We’re not talking about him.” he growled.

Adam’s face scrunched in annoyed confusion, “You’re the one that brought him up!”

“And I’m the one of us with the handy mind control superpower,” Damien pointed out snidely, “So, we’re gonna talk about what I want to talk about.”

Adam snorted and rolled his eyes, focusing on his food as if Damien wasn’t even in the room with him. Fine, not like he relished the idea of chatting with a whiny kid anyway. Still prickly, Damien stomped over to the couch and flicked the TV on and began mindlessly flipping through channels. He seethed at the unwelcome reminder of his weeks on the road with Mark, because now, as always when he opened that fucking Pandora’s box, everything made him think of Mark. Admittedly, when they hadn’t been on the road, they had spent an awful lot of time flipping aimlessly through channels on motel TVs, so maybe it figured that most of the dumb shit that was on now reminded him of Mark’s sarcastic commentary on what had been on then. Either way, it was an unwelcome reminder.

Because the way it had been had been an illusion. Maybe he hadn’t realized how much his ability had been doing, maybe he was just a numbskull when it came to interpersonal _anything_. Regardless, what he had thought was his first actual, honest-to-God friendship in years had turned out to be little more than a mirage. So, yeah, maybe he was a little touchy about that particular subject, “It wasn’t anything like this with Mark.” he said out loud, before he realized he was going to.

In his peripheral vision, Damien seemed to pick up Adam making some kind of skeptical face, “Are you testing me or something? You literally _just_ said Mark was off-limits.”

“ _I said,_ ” Damien corrected, “That I’ll decide what we fucking talk about.”

Adam grumbled to himself, but just as Damien wanted, he gave no real objection. For a long while, the only sound was the low-volume chatter of the commercials that were playing on the TV. Damien wanted to ask Adam how Mark was doing, how he was _really_ doing, but he didn’t even know how much the two overlapped within Dr. B’s exclusive little club of freaks. He scowled at the remote in his hand at the thought that the teenager in his kitchen, who had no apparent special abilities beyond a contrarian streak and a penchant for independent reading, was somehow more welcome there than he was. He’d found Dr. B long before the rest of them, other than Mark, of course, and for all he’d gone a little off-script in his methods, he had protected Mark and nursed him back to health. It wasn’t fucking fair, not in the slightest.

“Hey, so…” Adam said, cautiously, drawing Damien’s attention back to the present moment, “Not that it isn’t… fun to stand here and watch you fume about whatever the fuck drama you have with Dr. Bright’s brother and wait to see if you’ll yell at me about it—”

“Cut to the chase, kid.” Damien interrupted.

Adam tugged his fingers self-consciously through his kinky hair, “Can I take a shower?”

Damien blinked at him, a small, very small voice in the back of his head that might have been his latent conscience demanding how the hell his life had led him to a freaked-out teenager asking his permission to bathe, “Uh, yeah,” Damien said, shoving down that inconvenient voice, “You don’t need to ask or whatever.”

Adam opened his mouth, ready to point out the inconsistencies between Damien’s rules but he appeared to think better of it, “Okay,” he said, gathering the trash from his meal and dropping it in the bin before ducking his head and hurrying down the hall towards the bathroom.

A sudden worry flared to life in Damien’s gut as he heard the shower be turned on a moment later and he jumped to his feet, rushing to the bathroom door, “Hey, wait!” he called.

A frightened squeak could be heard from within and he heard the button lock on the knob be pressed, “W-what?” Adam asked, and for nearly the first time he actually sounded scared, “Changed your mind about the personal hygiene rules?”

“You’re not gonna like,” Damien hesitated, “Slit your wrists with my nail clippers or drown yourself in the bathtub or anything… right?”

Adam was silent for a few seconds longer than ideal, “And you acted like _I_ was so morbid…”

“ _Adam_.” Damien urged him through the door to reply honestly.

“Eugh, _stop!_ ” Adam whined but Damien pushed and he answered honestly, “Fine! No, I might look kinda emo or whatever but I’m not _actually_ a suicide risk or whatever.”

“Okay… good.” Damien said, releasing Adam.

“Couldn’t you just make me _want_ to shower without offing myself?” Adam sniffed, the barrier of the door making him a little bolder.

“I guess I _could_ ,” Damien admitted, “But it feels fucking skeevy to do that to a kid.”

“No offense, Damien, but that's kinda a weird place to draw the line.” Adam said, and when Damien heard the rings of the shower curtain slide against the rod, he wandered back to the bathroom, occasionally sending a feeler back towards the shower to make sure Adam remained intact. He wouldn’t be very good leverage if he was damaged, Damien knew. His frown deepened as it occurred to him that he might actually feel not great about it if something were to happen to the weird kid while he was in his keeping.


	2. Trapped

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter directly quotes episode 5

_November 13, 2016_

**~Caleb~**

It had been _three days_ and Adam still wasn’t home.

He wasn’t just _not home_ , he was _missing_ . Caleb’s mind struggled to even wrap around the information that someone could simply be there one moment, accounted for, and then just like that — _poof! —_ be _lost_.

Of course Caleb knew people went missing, that it was a thing. He wasn’t an idiot or something. He wasn’t fucking naive. But in his entire life up till now, missing people had been _strangers_ , faces he saw briefly on flyers or milk cartons or on the news. They weren’t supposed to be people he _knew._

They weren’t fucking supposed to be _Adam_.

He’d said something to that effect yesterday, when he’d paid a visit to Adam’s parents. He’d been disturbed by Adam’s mom’s observation that that was probably how _every_ missing person’s family felt; like it wasn’t supposed to have happened to them. It pained Caleb to even think about it, as if his empathy somehow extended to thousands of people he didn’t even know existed, all of their pain magnifying his own.

What a kind and thoughtful thing it was for Caleb to check on them, Adam’s parents had observed. But if Caleb was honest with himself it wasn’t motivated by thoughtfulness. It was selfish. He’d craved a way to feel closer to Adam, and going to his house and seeing his parents was one way of going about that. Adam’s house smelled a little like him — the same citrus-y laundry detergent, the dark smell of the strong coffee his parents brewed every morning — scents that Caleb had caught a whiff of in every hug. 

Adam’s backpack and laptop sat on the kitchen table where he’d left them and it hurt to look at them, but it also created the comforting illusion that he’d walk into the room any second. Caleb’s eyes had lingered on the familiar blue earbuds still plugged into the laptop, distracted by the physicality of the fact that those little pieces of plastic had been nestled inside Adam’s ears, funneling the music he loved so much into his skull. 

Caleb hadn’t stayed at Adam’s house for too long, it was too much. Not just the reminders of Adam’s absence, but the dragging storm clouds of worry that consumed his parents, the sparking anger within like threatening lightning, had overwhelmed him quickly. It was even worse because their feelings bore such a strong resemblance to the feelings of their son. But Caleb had had to make the visit. He’d already exhausted all of the more accessible ways of shrinking the unknown distance between him and his boyfriend; looking through pictures, reading over old texts, listening to every song Adam had ever mentioned, and every recording they’d ever made together. The recordings were hard to listen to, particularly the ‘stakeout’ that happened to document the first time either of them had actually encountered Damien face-to-face. When Damien’s voice had intruded on his and Adam’s recorded conversation, Caleb had been so flooded by anger that he’d punched his wall in lieu of Damien’s stupid kidnappy face. The impact had split his still-healing knuckles open again, but it had been worth it for the brief instant of relief.

Punching walls was one thing, not a great habit, he knew, but not the worst thing in the world. It had been a long time since he’d resorted to that particular outlet, and he wasn’t especially proud of it. Dr. Bright would probably use the word _‘backsliding_ ’ in their session later and he wasn’t looking forward to hearing it. Well, she might have some stronger words than that, like _‘disappointment’_ , maybe. Coach Walsh was basically _oozing_ disappointment, after all, and he didn’t have half the evidence Dr. Bright had to consider Caleb a failure.

“Are you _listening_ to me, Michaels?” Coach Walsh barked, forcing Caleb’s attention up from his hands, aching anew from something decidedly worse than punching his bedroom wall.

“Yes, Coach.” Caleb said, unable to keep the sullenness that consumed him out of his tone.

“I don’t need your attitude, Michaels,” the Coach griped, “You’re a great asset on the field, but that’s not worth diddlysquat if you can’t get your act together.”

“I’m sorry,” Caleb grumbled, ignoring the slight prickle that threatened behind his eyes at the _too-much_ of everything, “It won’t happen again.”

“It had better not,” Coach Walsh agreed, puffing up his chest, “You know I understand a bit of healthy male aggression, heck, you need some of it in football,” Caleb forced his face to remain impassive, though he really would have liked to roll his eyes at the term _‘healthy male aggression_ ’, “And I’ve made allowances in the past. But I can’t turn a blind eye to in-fighting within my team.” Caleb bit his tongue, trying not to think about, much less verbalize, some of the better points Adam had made about Coach Walsh’s delusions of grandeur.

“Is Terrence alright?” Caleb asked. Terrence was an asshole, frankly, and he’d deserved a punch or two since some time around his growth spurt in seventh grade, but Caleb had gotten a little carried away by the unsteady currents of emotions that had surged under everything now for three days, and it had been more than a punch or two.

“He’s a trooper, son,” Coach Walsh said, a bit more gently, “Don’t worry about him. Between you and me, it’s good for a young man to learn to take a whooping. Builds character.”

“Right, sure.” Caleb said, not too convincingly. He loved the game, but fuck, what he wouldn’t give to do football without all the toxic masculinity bullshit that went along with it.

Coach Walsh clapped him on the back, “All set, then, Michaels. Don’t forget,” he made conspiratorial eye contact as if he were about to impart some great wisdom, “These boys are your brothers, they’re not the ones you should be fighting.”

“I won’t forget, Coach.” Caleb promised, not pointing out that most sets of brothers that he’d ever encountered fought with each other _plenty_ . It wasn’t worth it, especially when he’d just escaped a _‘one more strike and you’re out’_ scolding. He was relieved when Coach Walsh walked away, taking his disappointment and his sanctimonious bullshit with him.

Caleb’s hand automatically went into his pocket for his phone to get Adam’s searing hot take on this news from the land of varsity Neanderthals, but he caught himself before he actually had the phone in his hand. He shut his eyes and sucked in a deep breath. Every day was full of hundreds of reminders of how much he’d taken Adam’s presence in his life for granted. He’d had no idea that so much of their day-to-day relationship had become muscle memory, but it had. The number of times he reached for his phone alone proved that. And now, all of them hurt. 

He released the breath he’d taken and walked down the empty hallways to his locker. He liked the school better like this, to be honest, after almost everyone had gone home. Here and there, a teacher was still tucked away grading papers or an extracurricular club was chattering in a classroom, but it was nothing compared to the droning hive of feelings that it was in the middle of the school day. Without the small green oasis island of Adam, Caleb seemed to find himself thrown this way and that by the tides of his peers’ emotions, threatened to capsize by every current and wave. It wasn’t just that he missed Adam’s centering, calming presence, though. He did, and even moreso he just missed Adam’s company, but it was also worse than that. Every second was underscored by the unremitting gnaw of worry that Adam was _not okay_ , that he was _hurt_ , that he was _gone_. That Caleb would never see him again and it was his own fault for failing to protect him, for being an absolutely useless superhero the one time Adam had actually needed saving.

As he gathered his things from his locker, Caleb checked the time on his phone and cursed under his breath. He slammed his locker shut and took off. If he hustled, he might not be too late for his session with Dr. Bright. And he might be tangled as hell in his own feelings, but he was self-aware enough to know that he needed every last allotted minute of therapy this week. 

He skidded into the reception area only eight minutes later than his appointment time, which was honestly quite a feat. He offered a polite, out-of-breath smile to Sarah and she smiled back at him, “You can go on in, Caleb, she’s expecting you.” she chirped. Caleb nodded his thanks and followed her direction, entering Dr. Bright’s office and collapsing into his customary spot on the couch.

“Hello, Caleb,” Dr. Bright greeted, with her usual friendly demeanor. Caleb did not miss, however, the way her eyes scanned his slouch, nor the dark circles under those eyes. Her feelings, as usual, were comfortably rounded and not too bright or demanding, but there was a layer of worry that was more palpable than normal. Still catching his breath, Caleb gave a limp wave. Her brow creased as she gave a slightly perturbed smile, “How are you doing? I’m afraid hand gestures won’t suffice to answer that one.”

Caleb had caught his breath, but now that he was here, he found himself experiencing slightly cold feet about telling Dr. Bright what a total disaster he’d been in the three days since they’d parted ways. He delayed the inevitable by attempting to answer her question with crude sign language; two thumbs down, then making the shape of a breaking heart with his hands in front of his sternum, and finishing on the timeless classic of making a stirring motion with his index finger beside his temple to indicate that he was crazy, and possibly, beyond her help.

Rather than laugh at the impromptu round of charades, Dr. Bright frowned and Caleb was thrown a little off balance by the sudden wave of concern and guilt that he felt from her. He was a mess, but he cared about Dr. Bright too much to want her to worry, so he finally found his voice to say, “Hey, no, Dr. Bright, I’m okay.”

“ _Are_ you okay, Caleb?” Dr. Bright asked, her tone falling somewhere between her practiced tone of gentle professional interest and the tender way Caleb had learned that she tended to address her loved ones in private, “It’s perfectly understandable if you’re not.”

Caleb considered lying to be kind, to spare her, but he just couldn’t do it. Even if Dr. Bright didn’t see through it — which she probably would — she deserved the truth from him. Therapy didn’t work if you weren’t honest, Caleb had learned that lesson a long time ago. And at this point, he really didn’t think that Dr. Bright was _just_ his therapist. They were like friends or family or something, and they were both part of this fucked up situation. On top of all of that, Caleb was just absolutely too emotionally drained to manufacture an even halfway-convincing lie, “Dr. Bright,” he said, his voice catching slightly in his throat, “I’m, I’m a fucking _mess_.” her brows tilted upward sensitively and her emotions intensified, but now that he’d opened his mouth, Caleb was too busy spilling his own guts to identify what exactly she was feeling.

“I, I feel almost like I did in the beginning,” he confessed, “When I first started coming to see you, I’m _so_ overwhelmed by all the feelings, like I’m a… a,” he groped for a metaphor that could at all illustrate how he felt, “A water balloon and the faucet’s going full-blast and I’m gonna just pop, like, any second!” Dr. Bright nodded her understanding of the analogy, but Caleb couldn’t wait for her feedback, the words pouring out of him now with a mind of their own. It had been that way when he’d first started coming to her, when he’d only really been able to process anything by ranting about it, “I guess it’s, it’s a little different because back then I used to never know if what I was feeling was mine or somebody else's, but now I can _always_ tell which feelings are mine, because _nobody_ at school is as fucking angry or like, devastated or, or, well… _scared_ as I am.” he wasn’t sure when he’d buried his hands in his hair but it was good to have something to pull on as he squeezed his eyes tightly shut and forged onward.

“I got into a fight today. With one of the guys from the team. That’s what made me late. Coach… that doesn’t matter, because the really fucked up thing is… it was the best I’ve felt in days,” Caleb exhaled a mortified laugh, “F-fucking, just beating the snot out of him. It felt like it used to, like _just_ anger, and that’s not a good feeling but at least it was a break from all the _noise._ It's been _so loud_ but it… But I _don’t_ wanna be _that guy_ , Dr. Bright,” his voice cracked and squeaked, every word laying him humiliatingly bare, “I don’t want to, to have to hurt anyone to be okay, but God, I’m just so _mad_ and, and I _don’t know where he is,_ so I can’t fucking punch—” 

Caleb cut himself off, sucking in a breath as his chest tightened and his eyes stung, “Dr. Bright, I-I’m fucking _losing it_ , I-I can’t go t-ten minutes without—” he was practically panting now, every desperate inhale stabbing in his lungs, “And I keep looking at my phone, as if he… as if,” a strangled sob escaped his throat as rebel tears burned his cheeks. He sniffed hard, a question that had wandered into his head a few times over the past three days suddenly spilling from his mouth without his permission, “How-how did you _stand_ it,” he asked, choked by tears, “All that time when your brother was gone?” he only vaguely registered the sharp spike of hurt from Dr. Bright, so deeply twisted up in his own anguish, “It’s only been _three days_ and I’m already, I’m…” Caleb scrubbed his face with his aching hands, brave or desperate enough to almost voice the fear that lurked woven in and out of it all, “What if he, he’s…?”

“Caleb, I want you to take a deep breath,” Dr. Bright said, voice a little shaky, “Do you remember the very first breathing exercise I taught you?” Caleb nodded as he pursed his lips the way that Dr. Bright had taught him back in some of their earliest sessions, “Good. Back to basics, okay? Close your eyes and inhale slowly, focus on the way your diaphragm expands like a balloon,” Caleb followed the familiar guidance to the best of his ability, gradually wrestling his attention into his physical body, “Now hold it for ten seconds, _1, 2, 3, 4, 5,_ ” the breath escaped in a gasped exhale and Caleb groaned, “That’s alright, Caleb. Let’s try again, breathe in, slow, slow,” Dr. Bright talked him through the ten-second count and a couple more inhales before he felt brave enough to open his eyes. She was leaning forward, her dark eyes brimming with concern, “Are you feeling a little better?”

“I guess so,” he admitted, “Thanks, Dr. Bright.”

“You have a lot on your mind, Caleb,” Dr. Bright said, which struck Caleb as a little redundant to point out, “It’s perfectly natural for you to be feeling overwhelmed. I daresay you would be even without your ability, do you agree?”

“Yeah,” Caleb said, “But I _do_ have my ability and it’s making everything fucking _worse_ ,” he added in a mutter, “As usual.”

“I know you’ve struggled with it at times, but I was under the impression that you were no longer viewing your empathy so negatively.” Dr. Bright said.

“It was fine for a while, I guess,” Caleb confirmed, “But now it’s like I’m right back at square one.”

“Progress is not always a straight line, Caleb,” she said calmly, way calmer than she felt, “Setbacks are a part of life, and you’ve encountered some particularly disruptive ones. It’s a perfectly natural reaction for you to backslide a little,” _There it is,_ “as you try to make sense of your experiences.”

“Yeah, I _know_ it’s not a straight line or whatever,” Caleb answered, impatient with Dr. Bright’s usual therapeutic platitudes, “And I _knew_ you’d just call this backsliding, but I don’t really think ‘ _setback_ ’ is the right word for everything that’s going on right now!”

Dr. Bright frowned and nodded, “That’s a fair point. I wasn’t trying to minimize… everything,” he felt a gush of regret from her before she tried to wrangle the two of them back to something resembling normal therapy, “Is there a word you think would fit better?”

Caleb blinked at her, “I dunno, _disaster_ , maybe? Absolute shitshow?” Caleb threw up his hands, “Even in like therapy-speak, it’s like a, wouldn’t it be like a ‘ _traumatic event_ ’ or whatever?”

Dr. Bright smiled at him and a little bit of pride mixed in with the whirlpool of guilt inside of her, “Turns out you have been paying attention in these sessions after all,” Caleb opened his mouth to argue with that but she went on, “I believe you’re right to characterize this experience as a traumatic event, and I know you feel like you’re back at square one, but you aren’t,” Caleb must have looked unconvinced because Dr. Bright explained, “You never would have been able to identify something as a trauma when we first met, nor would you have been able to talk about all of your feelings as eloquently as you did when you came in just now.”

Caleb scrunched up his face, “ _Eloquent?_ I basically just like barfed a bunch of feelings at you that probably didn’t even make any sense.”

“They made _a lot_ of sense,” Dr. Bright disagreed, “I’m going to try to address some of it, okay?” Caleb nodded, “Well, you started off by comparing your sense of being overloaded by emotional stimuli to being an over-filled water balloon.”

“Well, it sounds sorta dumb when _you_ say it.” Caleb said defensively.

“I don’t think it’s dumb at all,” Dr. Bright argued, “I’m not an empath, but a metaphor like that one creates a comparison that’s very easy for me to understand, which makes it easier for me to relate to what you’re feeling. That was a tool for contextualizing your ability that I watched you develop in these sessions.”

“Okay, sure, so I can talk about it,” Caleb said, “But that doesn’t really like, fucking help me _at all_ if I still feel like a balloon that’s about to pop or whatever.”

“Do you feel that way right now?”

Caleb thought about it for a moment. For the first time in days, he didn’t feel like he was about to explode. He just felt weak, “No,” he said with an unamused chuckle, “Right now I feel like a balloon that already popped,” More worry in Dr. Bright’s feelings, “You, you don’t have to worry. I… I guess at least it’s sorta a relief that some of the… pressure went away.”

“Talking to me about it helped?”

“I guess so,” Caleb admitted, “Yeah, it did.”

“Did it help more or less than getting into that fight with your teammate?” Dr. Bright asked, but she’d shifted into that slightly more parental tone that would have sounded like a lecture, even if he couldn’t also feel the shift in her emotions.

Caleb gave a prolonged groan, covering his eyes with his forearm, “ _I know,_ Dr. Bright, okay? I know fighting’s not a solution.”

“You sounded pretty conflicted about it before,” she persisted, “You said it was the best you had felt in days. That’s worrying, Caleb.”

“Yeah, I _know_ , I could probably feel your worry from the moon right now.” Caleb grumbled.

He felt Dr. Bright’s worry recede very slightly, “I’m sorry, Caleb, I know it makes you uncomfortable when you can feel my emotions too much. I didn’t realize I was doing it.”

“You don’t have to stop, I know people can’t help it when they feel stuff,” he corrected, “And it doesn’t make me uncomfortable. I like your feelings.”

“Oh,” Dr. Bright seemed caught off-guard by that, “Why’s that?”

“Well, mostly just ‘cause I like you. I usually like the feelings of people I like,” he went on, “And I guess because they are usually sorta chill? Like not too crazy, and they usually make sense, like they usually match what you’re talking about. You say you’re worried, and you feel worried. You say I’m doing well, and you feel proud. Right now you feel a little embarrassed, and you’ve felt pretty guilty the whole time,” Caleb frowned, “Why do you feel so guilty, Dr. Bright?”

Dr. Bright blinked and broke eye contact with Caleb, looking instead at one of the photographs that hung on her office wall. He followed her eyes, considering it for the first time in all the months he’d been coming here. It looked like sunrise judging by the colors, but the focus was on the dewdrops on a spiderweb in the foreground. Caleb had never given it much thought before, but it was nice. When Dr. Bright spoke it surprised him; he’d assumed she was going to brush that question off as too personal or inappropriate, “I broke my promise.” she said, and her feelings did not seem muted and calm now, but tumultuous. That whirlpool feeling was back, the anger at herself that he’d sensed at their last session, as well as a lot of other feelings that were hard to identify.

“What promise?”

Dr. Bright shut her eyes and pushed her glasses up to rub over her eyelids, “I promised that I would do whatever I had to to keep you _and Adam_ safe,” it was the first time either of them had said his name since Caleb had walked in and it fell like a stone in his stomach, but in a way it was a relief to just say it when they’d both been talking around it, “And I failed.”

Caleb shook his head, “It… it isn’t your fault, Dr. Bright.”

Dr. Bright sighed heavily, adjusting her glasses back into place but not yet opening her eyes, “It _is_. I allowed my own loyalties and grudges to stand in the way of your and Adam’s safety.”

Caleb frowned, “What do you mean?”

“You would have been safer with El— Annabelle.” Dr. Bright felt utterly defeated and Caleb couldn’t stand that feeling from her.

“You don’t trust her, though,” he pointed out, “She hurt your brother and she lied to you, and she— you were trying to do the right thing, Dr. Bright, you did your best.”

“And my best wasn’t good enough!” A flare of emotion stabbed in Caleb’s chest. He understood that.

“I feel the same way.” he confessed.

Dr. Bright stared at him for a moment before giving a mirthless laugh, “My, this is your second session in a row that has wound up somehow being about my feelings of inadequacy.” she said, her mouth tight as if she’d sucked a lemon.

“Since last time I’ve sorta learned how it feels.” Caleb noted.

Dr. Bright shook her head, regret heavy around her, “I never wanted you to know how this feels, Caleb.”

“I thought I did,” he mused, “I mean, I’d felt it in _your_ feelings, when you talked about Mark,” he frowned down at the bruises on his hands, “I didn’t think I’d feel it for myself so soon, this feeling like I’ve failed to protect someone,” he could feel Dr. Bright’s surprise, her affront, her desire to point out the ways in which their circumstances were different, “I’m sorry you’ve felt this way for so long, it feels… _so fucking bad._ ”

Dr. Bright sighed, “Yes. It does.” They fell silent for a moment and Caleb turned his attention back to the photos on the wall that he’d always ignored. There was one he liked more than the spiderweb one, of a blue sky through the branches of a tree, naked of leaves save one bright yellow one stubbornly hanging on. Again, Dr. Bright’s voice surprised him, “Mark took those pictures.” she said.

“He did?” Caleb asked, surprised as he looked back and forth between the framed photos and Dr. Bright. The photos didn’t exactly match her, there was something illogical about their focus, something untraditional about their composition. Chloe was really rubbing off on him. Caleb meant it when he said, “They’re really good.”

“Yes,” she agreed, nodding thoughtfully as she regarded them, “He’s very talented. He always had an artistic eye, which amazed me because I most definitely do not. And he was okay with taking some bad photos, scratching some lenses, wasting some film…” she shook her head, words trailing off.

“Does he still want to take photos?” Caleb asked.

Dr. Bright’s frown deepened, “I don’t actually even know…” she fell silent again before looking at Caleb again, “You asked before, how did I stand Mark being gone all that time—”

Caleb cringed, “Dr. Bright, I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay, Caleb,” Dr. Bright interrupted, but her voice was brittle as she said, “I… I _didn’t_ stand it, I allowed it to _consume_ me. Everything I did, it was in hopes that I could save him and fix my mistake,” she shook her head, “I don’t want you to do that.”

“But it _worked_ ,” Caleb said, brow furrowing, “You got him back.”

“And we’re going to get Adam back, too,” Dr. Bright assured, “Much, much faster than Mark. And… and it will all be okay. But in the meantime…” she sniffed and he realized her eyes were wet, “You _can’t_ let it consume you. You need to take care of yourself so that Adam can come home to the best possible version of you.”

Caleb thought about that for a moment, weighed it against Dr. Bright’s feelings, which seemed to broadcast that she had not taken care of herself and her brother had not come home to the best possible version of her. He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, “I miss him,” he said, barely above a whisper, “I miss him _so bad_.”

“I know, Caleb,” Dr. Bright said and he felt an echo of his own feelings in her, “I know the feeling, believe me I do.”

“I believe you,” Caleb said. Dr. Bright softened a little and he said, “And I forgive you.”

“Caleb—”

“ _Let me_ forgive you, Dr. Bright,” Caleb insisted, “You just told me to take care of myself, and you were _just_ talking about how your grudges were why you— Just, I forgive you, okay? It’s the best thing for both of us.”

Dr. Bright nodded wordlessly, but the wave of pride he felt from her was nearly suffocating. Somehow, he didn’t mind too much just then; it was like a too-tight hug and those weren’t so bad. They smiled a bit bleakly at each other for a moment before Dr. Bright gathered a semblance of her professional demeanor again and asked almost-sternly, “Tell me more about this fight you got into at school.”

_November 14, 2016_  
**~Adam~**

“Alright, squirt, up and at ‘em,” Adam sat up so fast he tumbled off the couch, garnering a laugh from Damien, “Somebody’s eager.” he teased.

“You _startled_ me.” Adam huffed, clambering to his feet. To be honest, he had still been asleep but that seemed somehow too vulnerable to admit, even though Damien must already know. He’d been sleeping _a lot_ , and he wasn’t sure how much of it was Damien willing him to sleep so he wouldn’t have to babysit and how much of it was him sleeping as a means of avoiding dealing with being in this situation. 

“Yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” Damien said, giving him a bemused once-over. Adam shifted his weight uncomfortably, tugging at the hem of the black t-shirt he was wearing. After showering the day before yesterday, he hadn’t been able to bear getting back into the clothes he’d been wearing for almost three days and had swallowed his pride and asked to borrow something of Damien’s. To say it made him feel gross to wear his abductor’s clothes would be a huge understatement, “But I’ve got a job for you.” 

The squeamishness over his borrowed clothes evaporated at the sound of those words, replaced at once by a crushing sense of trepidation and the teeniest, tiniest glint of hope, “A… job?” he prompted.

“Yep,” Damien said, popping the _‘p_ ’, “I need you to make a call.” he drew his phone from his jeans pocket with a flourish.

The hope flared a little brighter, his fingers itching to hold a phone. He knew he’d probably be closely watched by Damien, so he probably wouldn’t be able to send a covert text or drop a pin or anything. But it almost didn’t matter. His world had shrunk down to this apartment and the thought of just holding a link to the outside world in his hands made his stomach flutter, “A call…?” he repeated.

Damien rolled his eyes, “Yes, Adam, _a call_ , are you going to just repeat every goddamn thing I say?” 

Adam flinched slightly. Damien actually had been… well, not _nice_ , exactly, but he was mostly patient and companionable enough. He hadn’t made any more flippant remarks about torture and had continued to feed Adam once or twice a day, so in the scheme of kidnappers, Adam reasoned with himself that it could be a lot worse, “Sorry,” Adam said, finding it hard to take his eyes off Damien’s phone, “Why do you want _me_ to do it? Who are you making me call?”

“Well, as you might’ve noticed, no Atypical-Monitoring SWAT team has knocked my door in,” he said, “Despite all your auntie’s big bad mastermind swagger, you’re still here.”

“Having buyer’s remorse?” Adam asked, crossing his arms. If this experience had taught him one thing about himself, it was that fearing for his life really brought his snarkiness to new heights.

An unidentifiable flicker of emotion crossed Damien’s features at Adam’s remark and then he was shoving the phone at him, “Just make the call.”

Adam took the phone slowly, in case it was a trap, “...You want me to just… call Annabelle?”

“Yeah.”

“...And say what, exactly?” Adam asked, brow furrowing, “That she needs to hurry up the rescue or something? Why would you want me to do that?”

“ _No_ ,” Damien sighed impatiently, “I want you to, ya know, negotiate.”

“Negotiate?” Adam laughed at that, “I’m _the hostage_ , I’m not supposed to be the one doing the fucking negotiating here, Damien, that’s your job!”

Damien threw up his hands, “I’m sorry, is there a manual on hostage situations? I must not have gotten my copy in the welcome package.”

“You watch _so much_ fucking TV, are you seriously telling me you’ve never seen an episode of like _Law & Order _ or something where someone holds up a bank?” Adam argued, “It’s not the weepy bank teller with the ripped skirt who _negotiates_!”

“She _does_ ,” Damien said, his mind suddenly shoving its way into Adam’s and making him press the phone to his cheek, “If the bad guy holds a gun to her head.”

“Y-you don’t have a gun.” Adam failed to keep his voice steady, his heart pounding in his chest.

“I don’t need one.” Damien said, the unspoken threat of his power more frightening than any weapon.

“You…” Adam swallowed the dryness in his throat, “You said yourself. I’m no good to you as leverage if I’m dead.”

“Fair enough.” Damien shrugged, and just like that his power receded, but Adam’s heart continued to race. Okay, so sometimes Damien was really pretty fucking bad.

“Okay, so,” he said when he found the courage to speak, “You want me to call Annabelle and… negotiate?” Damien nodded and Adam frowned, “But I don’t even know what you want.”

“She knows what I want.” Damien said.

Adam shook his head, “You’re not much of a planner, are you?” he asked.

Damien scowled, “Just because I’m not anal about details—”

“No, you know what,” Adam interrupted, “I know I just found out about Annabelle’s secret Bond villain crap recently, but I’ve played a lot of board games with her. You’re gonna want to be anal about the details, or she will totally fuck you over.”

Damien stared at him for a long moment, “Are you actually trying to _help_ me?”

Upon Damien’s urging, Adam had no choice but to answer honestly, “Yes. Annabelle fucking you over wouldn’t make me feel any better about this whole ordeal.”

“Huh,” Damien cocked his head to one side, “Okay, then. I’m open to suggestions.”

“Well, um,” Adam gave it some thought, “You have to be specific about your demands. Don’t leave any loopholes or she will pull a full Birnam Wood on you.”

“A _what?_ ”

“It’s from _Macbeth,_ don’t worry about it,” Adam said, impatient, “I’m saying she will double-cross you.”

“All I fucking want is her immunity thing.” Damien shrugged.

Despite everything, that piqued Adam’s curiosity, “What immunity thing?”

“Auntie dearest dosed herself with some kinda anti-Atypical steroids or something,” Damien rattled off, “She’s immune to Atypical abilities.”

“That’s _possible_ ?” such a thing had never even occurred to him, even if there had definitely been times when he’d wished that Caleb couldn’t feel his feelings. The thought of Caleb made his heart ache; he’d been trying not to think about him too much because at this point the longing and uncertainty simply _hurt_.

“Sure is,” Damien said, “And I want it.”

“Why would—? You want that bad enough to fucking _kidnap_ me over?” Adam felt anger rise in him, “Couldn’t you just stay away from other Atypicals?”

“It really doesn’t concern you, kid.” Damien said.

Adam raised an eyebrow, “It didn’t seem like you were that close to—” something dawned on Adam and his eyes widened, “ _Oh_ , is it because of Mark?”

As usual, the mention of Mark made a muscle in Damien’s jaw twitch, “ _Don’t_ ,” he said, but he must not have wanted Adam to drop it _too badly_ , because his ability did not make its presence felt.

“You want to be able to be around him without worrying about him taking your ability.” Adam guessed.

“...not just for me.” Damien clarified, in a near-whisper.

Adam frowned, “You… want him to—? Oh!” why hadn’t he figured that out faster, Damien’s feelings towards Mark were a pretty obvious sore spot, “You want him to take it, too. So you don’t have to worry about the whole mind control thing between you two at all. Does he—?”

“That’s enough of that.” Damien said, and this time he definitely meant it, because Adam suddenly didn’t want to talk about the topic of Mark at all.

“Okay, so you want the immunity thing,” Adam said instead, focus shifting, “You should probably ask for _immunity_ immunity, too, actually. Like, amnesty. Otherwise she will probably detain you and let you rot in like Atypical prison or whatever.”

“Huh,” Damien smiled admiringly, “Good thinking.”

“Yeah, well,” Adam shrugged, “Coming up with worst case scenarios is kinda my thing.”

“This whole hostage thing must be a blast for you, then, eh?” something in Adam’s frown must have given away just how true that was, because Damien’s voice was almost gentle as he assured haltingly, “Don’t… worry, you’ll be home soon… or whatever.”

“Yeah, speaking of…” Adam held up the phone questioningly.

“Just tell her you’re alright and that I’ll return you safe and sound if she just gives me what I want, capisce?” Damien said, Adam nodded, feeling a queasy disconnect as he watched his hand navigate to Annabelle’s contact ( _‘wadsworth am head honcho’_ ) guided by Damien’s ability, “If you try to go off-script at all, I _will_ take the wheel, got it?”

“You’re already steering so, yeah, _I got it_.” Adam said through gritted teeth as he pressed the call button and put the call on speaker and listened to it ring.

  
  


**~Joan~**

“I don’t know why I’m here, Ellie,” Joan said, acutely uneasy, as she always was when she was on Wadsworth’s turf, “What can I possibly do that you’re not already doing?”

“You are here, Joan,” Ellie said, in a dangerously calm voice, “Because you are responsible for this whole debacle.”

Joan bristled at that, even though it was no worse than the self-recriminations that had been spiraling in her own head for days, “That’s hardly fair. I played my part, I won’t deny that, but I can’t take all the blame. I _won’t_ , Ellie.”

“Oh, you _won’t_ , will you?” Ellie’s nostrils flared, “That’s funny. I seem to recall you _claiming_ responsibility for his safety—”

“That’s _not_ what I meant,” Joan argued, “I meant Damien—”

“Oh, yes, _Damien_ ,” Ellie’s lips curved in a smile that did not reach her eyes and it was a cold echo of the warmer smiles they’d once shared in this very office. Joan pushed the thought away, “The dangerous and unstable Atypical that you _lied_ about and concealed from The AM for _months_ before coercing him into infiltrating our—”

“I will not apologize for doing what needed to be done to _save my brother_.” Joan said through gritted teeth.

For once, the apologetic expression on Ellie’s face was actually convincing, “Joan,” she said, “That isn’t—”

“What? It isn’t _relevant_ ? It isn’t _the same?_ ” Joan seethed, the pressure and guilt of the last few days bubbling over in a torrent of unchecked words, “I knew you were a lot of things, Ellie, a liar, a narcissist, but I don’t know how it escaped my notice that you could be such a _hypocrite!_ ”

As she had every time Joan had actually given her a piece of her mind, Wadsworth smiled as if she was proud, as if she was pleased to have gotten such a passionate reaction out of Joan. The smile elicited the distant flutter of butterflies but Joan determinedly ignored them, “A hypocrite, Joan, really? Don’t be so pedestrian, _everyone_ is a hypocrite.”

“I want Adam home safe as badly as you do,” Joan spat, angered further by the involuntary reaction she still had to Ellie even after everything, “But I don’t know _how_ you can possibly see yourself as any better than Damien!”

“Adam is _a child_ , Joan,” Ellie said, her voice taking on a harder edge, “Mark was an adult, who came to us of his own free w—”

“Under false pretenses!” Joan interrupted, “And you kept him h—”

“Everything we did was in the pursuit of _knowledge_ ,” Ellie countered, “Not for personal gain.”

“I wasn’t aware you knew the difference.” Joan was breathing hard and the way Ellie’s eyes gave her a scrutinizing once-over made her ribs seem to tighten around her expanding lungs.

“I’m impressed, Joan,” Ellie said, “You were always smart but you weren’t always so shrewd.”

“Betrayal has been very educational.” Joan snipped.

“Here at The AM we always encourage our employees to keep growing and learning,” Ellie said in a tone dripping with false cheer. It dropped away as she added, “But you have one thing very wrong,” Joan lifted her eyebrows, “You can’t possibly want Adam back home the way that I do.”

Joan opened her mouth, unsure if she should apologize or argue the point, only to be interrupted by the phone on Ellie’s desk ringing. She grabbed her bag from the back of the chair, ready to leave Ellie to her call when a small gasp drew her attention back to the other woman, “It’s Damien.” she said.

“What?” Joan demanded, crossing to stand behind Ellie’s desk where she could see the caller ID displaying the name of whatever poor schmuck Damien had at some point tricked into paying a phone bill for a phone they didn’t have, “Pick up!” she urged.

Ellie did, answering curtly, “Robert. You—”

“Annabelle, it’s me.” Joan recognized Adam’s voice and pushed decorum aside, crouching beside Ellie’s chair to place her ear closer to the phone.

“Adam,” Ellie gasped out, desperately hopeful, “My god, it’s good to hear your voice.”

“Yeah, s-sorry,” Adam said, hurried. Joan’s heart lurched as he went on, sounding not unlike the voicemail she’d received from Mark while he’d still been under Damien’s influence, “I’m okay, you d-don’t have to worry.”

“ _Of course,_ I’m worried,” Ellie said, and the tenderness in her voice actually sounded sincere. Joan didn’t know how to fit that revelation into her brain, “Where are you?”

“I’m not sure, not that far, we drove—” Adam’s words cut off suddenly.

“Adam!?” Ellie said, frantic.

“I’m here, he… Damien doesn’t want me to talk about where we are.” Adam said and Joan hated the flat affect on his usually emphatic speech.

“Damien knows you’re talking to me?” Ellie asked, exchanging a curious glance with Joan.

“Damien wanted me to call you,” Adam went on flatly, “He wants me to negotiate with you now.”

“Negotiate,” Ellie repeated, nostrils flaring again, “Okay, go ahead, Adam.”

“He wants your… immunity thing,” Adam hesitated, “We don’t know what it’s called.”

“I know what you mean,” Ellie said, her voice gentle and brittle at once, “Go on.”

“He wants, um, enough of that immunity stuff for two people?” Adam said, and a little of his normal inflection leaked into the words.

“Anything else?” Ellie asked, “That’s hardly grounds to kidnap my nephew.”

“That’s basically what I said,” Adam said, a note of amusement entering his voice before it fell flat again as he went on, “He also wants amnesty. From The AM and the U.S. government.”

“He thinks he can take you away from me and get off scot-free?” Ellie said, affronted.

“He— _Damien, c’mon, don’t_ —” Joan’s stomach turned at hearing Adam address Damien directly, resisting the urging of Damien’s wants as she herself had attempted to do so many times.

“Adam?” Ellie said, the worry in her voice unmistakable.

“He wants me to tell you that immunity and amnesty is a small price to pay to have me returned in one piece,” his voice had reverted back to that uncharacteristic flatness, as if he were reading from a script without feeling, “He can’t promise that— _Damien, seriously_ — He can’t ensure my s-safety unless you promise to meet his d-d-demands.”

“Okay, alright, Adam, Damien, we will,” Ellie said, ruffled in a way that Joan had never seen her, “Where? When?”

“I don’t—” Adam began, “He’ll be in touch.”

“Don’t keep us waiting, Damien,” Ellie said, forgoing the illusion that her nephew was more than a mouthpiece, “And don’t you dare harm one hair on his head.”

“Annabelle, I—” Adam began, his voice sharply, earnestly his own all of a sudden, “ _Damien, no_ — Tell Caleb, mom, Dr. Bright, I’m— _stop that!_ Coming home! Please, tell—” the line went abruptly dead. 

Ellie returned the phone to its cradle and pressed her fingers hard to her mouth, “Ellie.” Joan said, tentatively.

“You should have turned him over to us, Dr. Bright.” Ellie said curtly.

“I know,” Joan agreed, then asked, “What are you going to do to him?”

Ellie shook her head, “Don’t worry, Joan,” she said in a tone that did nothing to allay Joan’s worries, “It will be nothing more than he deserves.”

_November 15, 2016_  
**~Chloe~**

Chloe returned to her workspace, lump of clay in hand. The art therapy studio space wasn’t too crowded today, maybe on account of the rainy weather, and as it turned out only two people had turned up in addition to herself, Frank, and Caleb. The small headcount meant that things were pretty quiet, both literally and in terms of empathy and telepathy, which was probably for the best for everyone. As she sat back in her chair, she began to knead the terracotta to warm it up and make it pliable, absently taking stock of the others in the room, easier to control in a group this small and relaxed.

The woman by the windows was thinking about how soothing the sound of the rain against the glass was (Chloe was inclined to agree) and wondering if cross-hatching or stippling would be the best approach on the drawing she was working on (Chloe’s vote would have been for stippling, though she’d never had the patience for that technique herself). The man seated by the door was wondering if he should try getting back in touch with his ex-best-friend, very little of his mind actually focused on the canvas in front of him.

Frank was thinking about her (Chloe smiled inwardly), specifically thinking about how natural she looked with a lump of clay in her hands. It was nice to see herself through his eyes, he viewed her with a sort of gentle reverence that she never would have applied to herself. He was also thinking about the half-finished painting he was working on, reminding himself of her advice to be patient with himself and try to see the beauty in the imperfections. It was hard for him, though, and there was the usual throughline of frustration with the tremors in his hands, but the emotional turmoil was pretty quiet.

She gave into her curiosity and checked in on Caleb. She’d been a little surprised when he’d accepted her invitation earlier. His self-deprecating tone had given away the insecurity of his inner thoughts as he’d said _‘guess it’s that obvious I need all the therapy I can get’_ He was sort of relaxed right now, concentrating hard on the painting he was working on, sharing Frank’s palette of paints. _‘How the fuck do people do this?’_ he was thinking, staring at the shapes he’d amateurly sketched in to the crude landscape. _‘I know it looking pretty isn’t really the point, what with the whole_ therapy _thing, but it’d be nice if I could make this not look like shit maybe.’_ As it inevitably did, his thoughts jumped to Adam. _‘I wonder if Adam can paint. He's good at drawing. He’s good at like_ everything _, though, I bet he could be the next Da Vinci or whatever if that was what he wanted to do_ .’ Chloe smiled to herself at the puppy-love she’d quickly become used to seeing in both Adam’s and Caleb’s heads, the very same day she’d met the two of them. It had been immediately apparent that the boys were freaking _smitten_ and she loved it.

Her head still hurt a little from the incident with the lamp a few days prior, though, so she tried to focus herself back on her own art. She pulled off a small chunk of the now-flexible clay and began shaping it and adding it onto the larger piece. It was a relief to lose herself in the shapes of her imagination and the way the clay yielded to her fingertips. It was almost the way art had been before her ability had presented, back in the days when she could be alone in her mind.

But she was pulled violently from her creative flow only a couple minutes later when Caleb leapt to his feet, chair scraping loudly against the floor and rushed from the room in a whirl of distressed thoughts. She only caught snippets but they were troubling, _‘my fucking fault’,_ ‘ _ruined’_ , and, inexplicably, _‘fucking green’_ . Her eyes flashed to Frank’s as she got to her feet and he gave her a sympathetic frown, thinking, _‘all that pain and guilt, I wish I could tell him it’s really not his fault…_ ’

“I’ll be right back, Frank,” Chloe said, “I’m just gonna check in with him.”

“Alright, Chloe,” Frank said, his thoughts growing soft again as he addressed her, “I think that’s a good idea.” _‘She takes such good care of all of us.’_

She smiled warmly at him for the kind thought and hurried from the room, following the tormented swirl of Caleb’s thoughts and wiping the clay residue on her tie-dye smock. It wasn’t hard to find Caleb, he hadn’t made it too far from the studio. There were doors across the hallway of the community center, opening onto a small area with a couple trees and a picnic table. On some of the days when the weather had been nicer than today, the three of them had sat at the table and munched on snacks from the vending machine by the bathrooms. Caleb had opened the door only to stand beneath the shelter of the small awning, shoulders hunched as he hugged himself, his thoughts chasing themselves around in a tightening circle of _‘he might not be okay and it’s my fault if he’s not okay, it’s my fault, he would be okay if he’d never met me but it’s all my fault, it’s all my fault,’_ and Chloe’s heart ached with concern.

“You don’t have to be so worried.” Caleb said, voice choked by tears.

“Judging by the fact you’re crying, I maybe do.” Chloe answered delicately, taking a few steps closer.

“I’m not _crying._ ” Caleb lied, shoulders hunching closer to his ears as he thought _‘I’m already the youngest and now I’m acting like a baby…’_

“I don’t think you’re a baby,” Chloe assured, and Caleb huffed in frustration at her responding to his unspoken words, “I’m sorry,” she said, “I thought the art might help, I know it sometimes—” _‘it was helping’,_ Caleb thought, “Oh, it was! That’s good, I—” _‘until I had to be a dramatic fucking wimp about fucking colors_ ’, Caleb thought, “I don’t think you’re being dramatic—” Caleb’s thoughts turned visual, picturing the way the blue and yellow paint had swirled together on the white plastic palette, how the vibrant grass green had emerged, the phrase _‘keep me green’_ echoing over it, “ _Keep me green?”_ Chloe repeated, “What does that—”

“Chloe!” Caleb barked, whirling to face her, “Get out of my head!”

“Sorry!” Chloe put her hands up in apology, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry! I’m just worried and you’re sorta thinking _really loudly_ right—”

“It’s _fine,_ I know you can’t help it,” Caleb said, shoulders slumping as he turned to look back at the rain-drenched courtyard, “You don’t have to feel so guilty.”

“Thanks.” she said softly, waiting for Caleb to speak without pushing him, pretending like she couldn’t hear him continuing to think about the metaphor of the color green. After a short pause, he spoke.

“It was just a stupid metaphor.” he said.

“What was?” Chloe asked, trying to take Dr. Bright’s advice and converse instead of just looking in people’s heads.

“Me, um, being green. It…” Caleb scrapes his fingers through his floppy light brown hair, “With Dr. Bright, when I was trying to explain how my empathy works a while back, I used colors as examples to, like, help her get it.”

Caleb thought about the searing black of anger erasing all else, the cozy burgundy of being home with his parents, the calming oceanic blue of Adam’s presence, “Oooh,” Chloe cooed, “I _love_ that.”

Caleb mustered half of a teasing smile as he glanced at her, “You would, you art nerd.”

“You got me.” Chloe smiled back.

“It, it was…” Caleb sighed and dragged his hand down his face, “I… if I just think about it, could you just look in my head or whatever? It’s kinda embarrassing to explain the whole thing.”

Chloe’s eyebrows raised, “Didn’t you just tell me to get out of your head?”

“Yeah, but I-I changed my mind,” _‘Why would she even want to look at my stupid corny thoughts?’_ “Unless, I mean, you don’t have to. If you don’t want—”

“No, I’m curious why you’d react like that to a color,” Chloe admitted, “If you’re sure it’s okay.”

Caleb nodded, and shut his eyes, and Chloe made a conscious effort to follow the line of thoughts he was directing her to. First she found herself in a familiar position, seated on the couch in Dr. Bright’s office. The light from the window was different, probably later in the afternoon than she was usually there and Dr. Bright’s hair was longer, so it must have taken place before she’d cut it in the spring, _“So,”_ Dr. Bright was saying in the memory, _“For example, if your emotions are yellow and Adam’s are blue, you get green?_ ” Caleb remembered feeling relieved at Dr. Bright’s understanding, “ _Right, yeah. Yeah, and with him, it’s like everything becomes green. Whereas with someone else, it’s a lot of yellow and a lot of blue and then a little bit of green between them.”_ Chloe smiled at the cuteness of it all, a small _‘aw’_ escaping her out loud as she followed Caleb’s thoughts to another different memory.

She was standing with Adam in what was probably one of the boys’ bedrooms, band posters, CDs, lots of books. It was weird seeing things from Caleb’s vantage point as he was so tall, she was used to being near to eye-level with Adam. She (or rather, past-Caleb) could sense the dragging weight of sadness coming from Adam as he absently chipped the nail polish on his thumb, _“Just go home, Caleb_ ,” he was saying (this must be his room, that explained all the books), _“I’ll see you at school tomorrow.”_

 _“Would it be okay if I stayed instead?”_ Caleb asked in the memory, remembering feeling conflicted about leaving Adam’s side when he was so palpably depressed, “ _I mean I’ll go if you want but I wanna stay.”_

 _“Why?”_ memory-Adam asked, an edge of frustration ruffling amidst the sadness, _“Why would you want to be around me right now? I’ll just make you sad.”_

_“Being around you makes me feel good.”_ memory-Caleb replied.

 _“That doesn’t make any sense,”_ Adam had said, _“I know you can feel it, and I don’t want to make you feel, like, sad. There’s no use in both of us feeling like crap.”_

 _“Sure, I get it, but,”_ memory-Caleb hesitated, wishing it was easier to explain his ability to someone who didn’t have it, “ _It doesn’t make me_ sad _, when you’re sad. It just makes… green.”_

 _“What?”_ Memory-Adam cocked his head, and Caleb had felt the familiar pulling curiosity that often surrounded Adam while he read, _“Green? What are you talking about?”_

 _“When you’re like, blue, or whatever,”_ Caleb had tried to explain, his words feeling inadequate, _“It doesn’t make me blue. It just makes me… green,”_ he’d watched Adam’s brow crease and felt his skepticism and back-pedaled, _“Ugh, this is stupid, just, never mind,”_ a flash of surprised regret from Adam, “ _I’ll just go if you want me to—”_

 _“No,”_ Memory-Adam took hold of Caleb’s hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze, _“I… please explain it to me””_

Memory-Caleb had smiled at Adam’s curiosity and understanding, but still hesitated to explain. Chloe realized this memory was from sometime soon after Caleb had told Adam about his ability, which explained some of the reticence, _“It’s just something I talked about with… with my therapist,”_ Caleb said, lowering his voice on the word _‘therapist’_ , _“‘S’not important.”_

 _“You don’t have to do that, ya know,”_ Adam had coaxed with a sweet smile that had given memory-Caleb butterflies, _“It doesn't weird me out that you go to therapy,”_ he squeezed his hand, _“_ Or _that you can feel my feelings. So whatever the green thing is, I think I’ve proven I can sorta roll with the punches, haven’t I?”_

Memory-Caleb had smiled wider at that; he adored when Adam got cocky, “ _Okay, yeah. You have. So, like… the hard thing with my… ability is that other people’s feelings will take over, like… sorta crowd into me and take the place of my own,”_ Chloe could vaguely feel the memory-within-a-memory of that feeling, _“And then when that happens, I dunno if what I feel is even what I feel or what the person sitting next to me in class is feeling,”_ Memory-Adam nodded, brow furrowed slightly, _“I’m a little better at it now than when it started,”_ Memory-Caleb went on, _“But like… when we were first, ya know, hanging out, it was different.”_

 _“Different?”_ Memory-Adam asked softly, and Chloe felt a little awkward sharing Caleb’s memory of how that tone of voice had made Caleb want to kiss Adam. 

_“Different than with other people,”_ Caleb had gone on to explain, “ _Your blue didn’t take over my yellow, it just... made it green.”_

 _“Green,”_ Memory-Adam repeated, the freckles on his brown cheeks blurring into his rising blush, “ _And that’s… better?”_ Caleb had found the courage to meet Adam’s gaze directly, melting slightly at the liquid admiration he found there, matching the feeling flowing off of Adam’s heart.

 _“Yeah,”_ Memory-Caleb’s thumb stroked over the delicate ridges of Adam’s knuckles, “ _It’s way better. It’s… well, the best, actually.”_

Memory-Adam’s cheeks darkened more and Chloe couldn’t help finding the whole thing adorable, “ _Oh,”_ Adam had squeaked, then cleared his throat, _“Oh, okay, then that’s… good.”_

A cringe of nerves had gotten the better of Caleb, prompting him to doublecheck, “ _It doesn’t freak you out?”_

Adam had smiled, and reassured, “ _No, Caleb, I,_ ” Caleb had sensed a fluttering sensation from Adam, “ _It doesn’t freak me out.”_

Caleb had grinned down at him as he tugged his hand, pulling the shorter boy closer, “ _You have butterflies.”_ he confided.

He had felt a slight ping of embarrassment from Adam, “ _You can feel that?”_

 _“Yeah,”_ Caleb asked, _“Does it mean you like it?”_

Adam had rolled his eyes, _“It means I like_ you _, Caleb,”_ he’d corrected, but when Caleb had smiled, he’d smiled back, “ _But yeah, I think I do,”_ Caleb had leaned down, _“Like it, I mean,”_ Adam had stammered out, going a little breathless as his eyes followed Caleb’s lips, _“Keeping you green.”_

“Chloe.” Caleb had said in the present, shoving the memory away and in doing so, shoving Chloe out of it before the boys kissed.

“Sorry.” Chloe said, tearful, unsure what she was apologizing for.

“Oh my god, I must be fucked up if reading my thoughts is gonna make you cry.” Caleb grumbled.

Chloe shook her head, “No, no, you guys are just so stupid cute,” Caleb rolled his eyes, “And you know me, I love love, I can’t help it.”

Caleb shut his eyes and breathed in deep through his nose, his mind unspooling in a desperate mantra of ‘ _I miss him, I miss him, god he needs to come home and be okay, I can’t take it if he’s not okay, I miss him, when will he come back—’_

“Tomorrow.” Chloe blurted out.

“What?” Caleb’s eyes shot open, “What’s happening tomorrow?”

“He’s coming back, or he’s supposed—”

Caleb held up a hand, “What are you talking about?” 

Chloe felt the blood drain from her face, how was she _still_ doing this? “Shit,” she muttered, “You didn’t— well, _I_ wasn’t even supposed to know—”

“Chloe,” Caleb practically snapped, “Know _what_?”

Chloe sighed, “Dr. Bright was thinking about it when I saw her before. Damien’s supposed to be bringing Adam back tomorrow in exchange for some immunity thingy from Wadsworth,” Caleb’s thoughts immediately began to race, ‘ _she didn’t tell me? Why the fuck didn’t anyone tell me?! I need to be there, I need to see him, he’d want me to be there, why didn’t Dr. Bright_ tell me _??’_

“Caleb.” Chloe cautioned, reaching out to touch his arm.

“Thanks, Chloe,” Caleb said distractedly, already pulling out his phone, “I, I need to call Dr. Bright, I… I’ll see you later.” and without another word, he walked briskly away from her.


	3. Returned

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of chapter heavily influenced by episode 42
> 
> The first sexual/mature themes start in this chapter but there is gonna be some smut later on so proceed accordingly.

_November 16, 2016_

**~Damien~**

Damien drummed his fingers impatiently against the steering wheel as they neared the agreed-upon rendezvous point. In the passenger seat, Adam was uncharacteristically quiet and Damien found himself wishing he would say something to distract him, “Ughh,” Adam groaned, “What do you want me to  _ say _ , Damien?”

“Consider it an exit interview.” Damien grumbled.

“I’m seventeen and I’ve never  _ had a job _ ,” Adam pointed out before cocking his head at Damien, “Have  _ you _ ever had a job?”

“Here and there.” Damien shrugged.

“Huh,” Adam frowned through the windshield, “I guess you wouldn’t have to, considering the fact you never have to pay for anything. But,” he plucked at a tear in the too-big, borrowed jeans he was wearing, which Damien realized now he wouldn’t be getting back, “Isn’t it boring?”

“ _ Boring _ ?” Damien scoffed, “I have better things to fill my days with than  _ labor. _ ”

“Liiike, watching TV and kidnapping people?” Damien looked sharply at Adam, who put his hands up, “Sorry, man, those just kinda seem like your main pastimes!”

“There’s a lot about me you don’t know.” Damien pointed out gruffly.

“I know you’ve got it bad for Mark.” Adam said in a lofty tone.

“ _ What?  _ I  _ do not—” _ Damien began.

“Spare me,” Adam crossed his arms, “I know gay pining when I see it, trust me.”

Damien let that sink in for a second before correcting, “I’m not gay.”

“But you  _ are _ pining?” Adam followed up relentlessly.

It was Damien’s turn to groan, “You got a pretty shit survival instinct there, kid,” he said, “It’s not usually advised to bait your kidnapper.”

“Finally, you admit that’s what you are,” Adam said, though there was nothing celebratory in his tone. Damien could feel his mind growing nervous as he went on, “But not for long. The park Annabelle and you agreed on is right up there.” he pointed at the next turn. They sat in silence at the light, both listening to the  _ click-cluck-click-cluck _ of the turn signal.

As they’d agreed, a small party was waiting to receive them in the parking lot. As they approached, the figures became easier to identify, Wadsworth, another woman who resembled her, probably the kid’s mom. Dr. Bright, wringing her hands slightly as her eyes flicked between the nearing car and Caleb beside her, every last inch of him wound tight and tense. There were two other figures, big hulking guys hovering around Wadsworth, whom Damien had to assume were some kind of security detail.

He was not  _ surprised _ that Mark wasn’t there. It wasn’t as if he would have gone within a mile of Wadsworth if he could help it. No, he wasn’t surprised. But he’d be lying to himself if he pretended he wasn’t a smidge disappointed.

He pulled the car into a spot, not bothering to pay attention to the lines, and parked the car. Adam unbuckled his seat belt and immediately reached for the door handle, but Damien wanted him to stay put, so he did, though he moaned through gritted teeth, “ _ Duuude,  _ c’mon,  _ let me go. _ ”

“Cool your jets,” Damien said, “Just follow my lead.”

“As if I have any other choice.” Adam complained.

Damien ignored him but made sure to keep him in his seat as he took out his phone and dialed Wadsworth’s number. He watched through the windshield as she withdrew her phone from the pocket of her smart black coat, everyone else’s eyes moving back and forth between her and the car as she answered, “Hello, Robert.” she said.

“Fancy meeting you here, Annabelle.” Damien drawled.

“Don’t be cute, Robert,” Wadsworth’s voice said in his ear, nostrils flaring, “Let my nephew out of the car or I might change my mind about your reward.” In the background, a muffled  _ ‘wait, what?’ _ clearly from Caleb, judging by the way he tried to move towards the car, hampered by the way Dr. Bright pulled him back. It might have been a comical sight, given that she was a foot shorter than him, if it hadn’t been for the impatient, pained whine of Adam beside him. 

“How are we doing this?” Damien said, “One of you bring me the serum and when I have it, the boy wonder’s all yours?”

“Let him out of the car first,” Wadsworth said, “I won’t risk you taking off with him again.”

“As if I want to keep babysitting forever?” Damien chuckled at the apparent rage on Wadsworth’s face, “Fine, have it your way, but I’m keeping control of him until I drive away.”

“Very well,” Wadsworth said and Damien couldn’t quite hear what she said as she removed the phone from her ear to address one of the burly bodyguards. She put the phone back in place, “All set. Now let him  _ out of the damn car _ , Robert.”

Damien focused on shifting his will towards Adam, making him open the door and step out slowly, shooting a glazed, questioning glance back at Damien. Unable to stop himself for some reason, he offered the kid a small comforting smile before the door shut. Again, Caleb tried to rush forward, only for Dr. Bright to pull him back and say something to him. Adam remained beside the passenger side door, shaking and unable to do anything but stand still because that was what Damien wanted him to do, “He better be alright.” Wadsworth said in his ear, as she waved one hand at the same guard and he strode towards the car, with a small discreet box in hand.

Damien rolled down the window as the man neared him, as if he was pulling up to a drive-thru window. When the man got close enough for him to feel his consciousness, for a split-second he considered going off-script, making the man do something for him. But, honestly, he was already being given what he wanted, so for once in his life he just held back on the theatrics and stuck to the plan. He took the box from the man and placed it on the recently-vacated passenger seat, “We good?” he asked Wadsworth as he rolled up the window.

“Once I see your tail-lights disappear, yes.” Damien started the car again and made a broad u-turn, careful to not hit Adam.

“Goodbye, Annabelle.” he said.

“So long, Robert.” the line went dead in his ear as he watched the group converge on Adam in his rearview mirror. He held his breath as he left the park, releasing a heavy sigh as he turned back onto the main road, feeling a bit as though he had just robbed a bank in broad daylight (something he may or may not have personal experience doing). He drove for less than a mile before the silence in the car got to him and he turned the radio on.

**~Adam~**

Adam was relieved,  _ of course he was _ , but he figured it just hadn’t sunk in yet. It had been a unique form of torture to stand in the parking lot like that, and not just because torn jeans and an old t-shirt were not adequate protection from the damp November chill. He felt pulled in two directions, his heart and his  _ self _ tugging him towards his family, and Dr. Bright,  _ Caleb _ , even while another force held him pinned to the spot, as if his willpower was leashed to Damien’s side. It wasn’t until Damien’s car had pulled away (he didn’t know if it could still be seen, he didn’t turn to look) that he could move. He took one step forward before his legs seemed to turn to jelly and he swayed on the spot.

Strong arms caught him before he fell.

“I’ve got you, babe.” Caleb whispered, soft so no one else could hear as they rushed over. And for that instant, it was as if they were alone together. And Adam could breathe. 

And then, they weren’t.

Mom and Annabelle couldn’t seem to keep their hands off him, patting his frizzy hair, stroking his cheeks, squeezing his hands, plucking at his borrowed clothes, inspecting and fussing. He thought inanely of himself like a horse being bartered in some old-timey market, the new buyers checking its age by its teeth. He had his brain to himself again for the first time in days and it was full, too full. It was all  _ so much _ , it made him dizzy and queasy and finally he snapped, “Can I  _ please _ just go home?” and thankfully no one tried to argue with him. He didn’t miss the look that Aunt Annabelle and Dr. Bright exchanged, obviously both eager to know what had transpired during his time with Damien. Boy, how disappointed they would be when they found out he’d basically spent the whole time watching daytime TV, eating convenience store snacks, and vacillating between zoning out and panicking.

He hadn’t even realized that Caleb had wrapped him up in his comically-too-large letterman jacket until they were climbing into the backseat of Annabelle’s car. To buckle his seatbelt, he had to bunch up the sleeves to free his hands. He heard Caleb snicker at the sight, and the sound sent a warmth through him that made him feel a little like he was going to hurl, and he honestly didn’t know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. 

It was already evening. He hadn’t realized it was so late, but then, it had been really hard to keep track of time with Damien. The guy had no fucking clocks and didn’t bother to sync the ones on his appliances, and Adam didn’t have a phone anymore, and he hadn’t been getting up for school in the morning, and sometimes Damien would get fed up with him and just make him sleep. He felt unmoored, adrift in time. As mom and Annabelle began to talk in the front, their conversation low and tense, Adam cautiously met Caleb’s doggishly attentive gaze, “Hey, um… how many days has it been?” he asked quietly.

A pained look flickered across Caleb’s features, “Like five,” he said, equally quiet, “It’s the, uh, the sixteenth and he…” he bit his lip, “You’ve been away since the eleventh.”

“ _ Away, _ ” Adam repeated, his tone sounding vague even to his own ears, “Yeah.” Had it really been five days? It somehow seemed like much more and much less than that at the same time. 

“Adam,” Caleb touched his cheek very lightly. The touch wasn’t demanding like his mom or Annabelle’s, but he still didn’t know whether he wanted to lean into it or curl away from it, “Are you okay? For real?”

Adam snorted, “Can’t you feel that I’m not?”

Caleb frowned, “I can feel…” he shook his head, his hair flopping against the cute scrunched expression of his eyebrows and it was  _ good _ to see him even if things weren’t good, really, “I don’t know what you’re feeling.” he admitted.

Adam shook his head, humiliated to find his eyes prickling, “Yeah, well, neither do I.”

Arms reached for him, and Adam allowed himself to be snuggled against Caleb’s chest. He breathed in deep, relishing the smell of him, the unlikely juxtaposition of his distinctly masculine Old Spice deodorant with the delicate scent of the lavender and peppermint green tea he favored, the sweet honey smell that seemed to cling to him underlying it all. Adam knew he put honey in his tea, but he had a sneaking suspicion that Caleb actually just smelled that way on his own, which honestly made a lot of sense, since everything about him was sweet and gooey and golden when you got right down to it.

He chuckled at the thought and when it came out sort of choked, he realized he was crying. He felt a wave of embarrassment and prepared himself to withdraw from the comforting warmth but Caleb’s arms just settled more protectively around him, “It’s okay,” he whispered, lips pressed against Adam’s crown, “You don’t have to be embarrassed. You don’t have to feel  _ any _ way, or like, even know what you feel.”

“ _ Caleb. _ ” Adam whispered, wanting to argue with him about that but perfectly at a loss for what to say.

One of Caleb’s hands left his back, tangling in his curls. Adam grimaced slightly, self-conscious, knowing his hair was a little brittle from days of Damien’s seriously lacking-in-moisture white guy shampoo, but the expression melted into relief as Caleb’s fingertips stroked gently across his scalp, relaxing his muscles so that he slumped more heavily against Caleb with a heavy sigh, “I missed you so much.” Caleb confessed softly against Adam’s head.

“I missed you too.” Adam echoed. It was true, but it didn’t totally  _ feel _ true. Honestly, he’d tucked away his longing for Caleb for the most part, it had felt too raw and red to leave open to the air. He’d compartmentalized it away. Or maybe Damien had pushed it from his mind? He shuddered at the thought, a cold seed of dread germinating in his gut at the thought of how Damien had  _ used _ him. He hadn’t done anything terrible, so really, Adam figured he was probably overreacting, but he couldn’t help feeling a little as though he’d been treated like one of the the hand puppets he’d had growing up, as though Damien had simply shoved his hand inside him, opening and closing his mouth and putting words there that weren’t his. 

“Adam?” Caleb said, quiet but worried, “What’s up? Your feelings just took, like, a fucking sharp turn.”

“I, I’m fine.” that time, he was lying.

Caleb didn’t call him out on it, even though he must know, he must  _ feel _ it. Adam wanted to cling to the warm honey-scented bear hug and find comfort in it, wanted to hide from all of the ugly, cold, sharp edges of the way Damien’s ability had penetrated his consciousness for the last five days. But how could he  _ hide _ with Caleb, when by his very nature, Caleb would know what he was really feeling? He filled his lungs with the warm sweet smell of Caleb again before pulling away. Caleb’s arms seemed a little reluctant to release him, but they did. Adam averted his gaze out the car window — they were near Caleb’s house — and scrubbed the tears from his face on the ribbed fabric cuffs of Caleb’s jacket.

“Babe, are you—?” Caleb inquired, tentative.

“Yeah, yeah,” Adam assured him, “I… I just, I need to process some stuff and I don’t really think I want to be touched right now.”

“ _ Oh, _ ” a note of frantic apology stained Caleb’s voice, “Fuck, I’m sorry, I—”

“No, no, it’s fine,” Adam couldn’t bear to let him think that that embrace had been unwanted or unappreciated, when in fact it might be the last gasp of the most wonderful thing that had ever been his, “That was… good, I just, now...”

“Okay, sure, of course,” Caleb agreed eagerly. He hesitated for a second before asking, “Would holding your hand be okay?” Adam found Caleb’s hand and held it tightly, resting against the space between them on the backseat. They didn’t say anything for a moment before Caleb asked, “We’ll… we’ll talk about it, right?”

“Yeah, Caleb, of course, we will,”Adam said, “Once I’ve sorted it out and… and when my mom and aunt aren’t, like, on top of us.”

“Right, yeah,” Caleb sounded nervous. Adam wondered what his confused mess of feelings even  _ felt _ like via Caleb’s empathy. They pulled up to the curb in front of Caleb’s house and Caleb squeezed his hand, “I am  _ so glad _ you’re home and you’re okay.” Caleb whispered to him before politely saying goodnight and thanking Annabelle for the ride and then hopping out of the car and bounding quickly to the door. As he let himself inside and they pulled away from the curb, it registered with Adam that he was still wearing Caleb’s jacket. His mind was so stuck on Caleb’s parting words however.

He was glad to be home, but he couldn’t help but wonder if he was  _ okay _ .

_November 17, 2016_

**~Ellie~**

Joan’s file had identified Damien as impulsive, but Ellie hadn’t dared hope he would live up to that descriptor quite so spectacularly. He didn’t even last an entire  _ day _ . It was in the afternoon of the following day that she got the call from the agent she had assigned to monitor Damien; he’d administered the sedative to himself and he was currently being transported to The AM.

Ellie of all people could understand the appeal of being immune to Atypicals, but she had never expected him to shoot up  _ the very next day _ .

He arrived at the facility without incident. That had been the dodgy part of the plan, the ride from his residence to The AM. If he’d woken up, he could have manipulated the agent behind the wheel to do Lord-knows-what and the last thing she needed was another goddamn hostage situation to defuse. But the sedative was one that they used routinely with Atypicals on Tiers 3 through 5, so there hadn’t been too much guesswork regarding his dose.

And now, he was here, and the real work could begin.

The standard medical intake for a class E was performed while the sedative was still in effect, a physical exam, the collection of some samples for testing, and an MRI and CAT scan. Ellie was especially curious to see what exactly was going on inside that Atypical head of his; the brains of class A abilities was always interesting, especially the ones unbalanced enough to warrant an E-classification. Green had taken some issue with Joan’s categorization of Damien, if Ellie’s memory served her (and it almost always did), but in light of recent events, she was indeed inclined to see Damien as high-risk.

Ellie had to attend to other duties for the rest of the morning, but after a quick lunch, she returned to the sub-basement for some quality time with her newest subject. She was sitting at his bedside and reading over the new information that had been gathered by the medical staff thus far when he finally stirred. She watched, scanning him with a critical scientific eye as he stretched, tugging slightly at the restraints that had been placed at his wrists for good measure. He grunted dryly.

She grabbed the plastic water cup by his bed and brought the straw close to his mouth, “Here, Robert,” she said, keeping her voice pleasant, “Have some water,” obediently, he sucked the straw, eyes still shut as he drank down most of what was in the cup, “An unfortunate side effect of that sedative, it does tend to cause mild dehydration.”

At the word  _ ‘sedative _ ’, Damien’s eyes opened, his gaze finding hers, already quite alert, “Sedative? I—” he interrupted himself with a snorted laugh that seemed to say ‘ _ of-course’ _ , “You tricked me.”

“You trusted me.” Ellie shot back mildly.

“That was a mistake.” Damien observed. He was surprisingly calm, Ellie would have to make a record of that.

“So it would seem,” she agreed with his assessment, “You can’t have truly believed I would have just handed the culmination of my career to you, and not even bother to observe the side effects.”

Damien frowned, “So… what, you  _ did _ make me immune?”

“Not yet,” Ellie replied, “All you’ve had is a sedative. But once we’ve had a chance to observe your ability, we can consider seeing how the immunity serum would interact with it.”

Ellie felt a familiar exhilaration as she watched the trepidation grow on Damien’s face, as he became aware of the windowless walls and the straps holding him to the bed. No telepath was needed to know that he was putting two and two together, “This place… this is Tier 5, isn’t it?” he asked.

Ellie tilted her head, scanning his expression thoughtfully as she said, “Does it match Byron’s description?”

Anger overtook his features immediately,  _ too easy _ , “Don’t—” he snarled.

“What?” she tutted, “Don’t tell me it isn’t living up to your expectations. After all, Robert, you’ve only just arrived, give it a chance.”

“My name’s Damien.” he muttered, glaring at her openly now.

“Oh, but it isn’t, is it?” she smiled at him, emulating a look of sympathy, “It’s not the name your parents gave you.”

“ _ They  _ never gave me anything.” he seethed.

“As I understand it, they gave you at least two things,” Ellie said as she stood, smoothing her immaculate suit, “The name Robert Douglas Gorham,” she crossed to the door, adding without turning back to him, “And a serious case of abandonment issues,” she waved her card over the sensor and the door opened, “Get some rest, Robert, we start work in earnest tomorrow.”

“Go  _ fuck _ yourself, Annabelle!” he called after her as the door shut and locked behind her.  _ Too easy, indeed.  _ As she walked back to her office, she reminded herself that he was not here simply to be punished for crossing a line in his stunt with Adam, but because his ability truly did present unique research opportunities. The work had to come first, and for the first time in her life, it might prove difficult for her to keep her priorities straight.

_November 18, 2016_

**~Caleb~**

Caleb leaned his chin against his palm, staring at the numbers accumulating on the whiteboard without a scrap of understanding getting through to his brain. This was one of only two classes that he and Adam did not share. Adam had already done Trig the year before and had AP Physics this period anyway (for all his talk of rebelling against the family tradition of pursuing science, he was still fucking great at it, even if it was not where his academic passion lay). Anyhow, Adam wasn’t in the classroom with him, which, Caleb noted with some guilt, wasn’t an entirely bad thing.

He knew he ought to be patient. He knew Adam had been through something weird, and scary, and maybe really fucked up, and he wasn’t gonna just bounce back into his normal routine as if nothing had happened. Caleb  _ really _ understood. But that didn’t make it any less jarring to have Adam back, but only partly. He frowned into his palm, guilt curdling sickly in his gut for even thinking it, but that was how it felt. 

After that bastard Damien had given Adam back, Caleb had thought he’d gotten a sense of how things were going to be. He couldn’t believe that he was sorta wishing for that Adam back — trembling and tearful and under-dressed for the weather in borrowed clothes — but there had been a rawness, an openness to him that Caleb knew how to navigate. Feelings that lived on or near the surface were easier, easier that whatever was going on now. When Adam had been curled like a comma against him in the backseat of Annabelle’s car, he had been able to sorta map the tangled pain and get some idea of how to address it, but now? Now…

He tried to tell himself nothing was too off, really. He’d hardly seen Adam enough to be able to gauge his overall state of mind. They still had classes together, but Adam had been so absorbed in catching up on the work he’d missed that that couldn’t exactly be called quality time. He’d been cutting their lunches together short, and although they had hung out at Adam’s house the night before, they had spent the whole time in the kitchen with schoolbooks out, the Hayeses hovering nervously around them as if Adam was going to vanish from right under their noses. Again.

Maybe, maybe if they could just get some time together, everything would fall back into place. They were always at their best when it was just the two of them, one-on-one, anyway. They hadn’t had any honest alone time since their few moments away from everyone at the safe house, before everything went to shit. And before that… well… 

Caleb felt himself blush hotly at the thought. What the hell had brought  _ that _ into his head? He’d been in a distinctly non-sexual mindset until a second ago. He took a deep breath, but that hot-breathless-butterfly feeling didn’t go away. He glanced around at his classmates, half of whom were staring into space with glazed eyes, and wondered who the culprit was, which one of them was escaping the dullness of math class by exploring some sexual fantasy or other, blissfully unaware that they were dragging an empath along with them.

He thought about resisting it, focusing on using one of the techniques Dr. Bright had taught him to re-center, to ground himself in his own emotions instead of losing himself to someone else’s. But honestly… his emotional landscape right now wasn’t exactly appealing, and well, it wasn’t like his own hormones had exactly gotten the memo that everything was still messed up. While Adam had been missing, he hadn’t spared more than a passing thought to sex. He’d only ever really wanted to do that stuff with Adam, so the thought of it had just made him worry about and miss Adam more.

Now that Adam was home, things were a little less black and white. They had hardly touched at all, even in the smallest, most innocuous ways, since that first night in the car, but not for lack of Caleb  _ wanting _ . He wanted to touch more than ever, more than he had ever wanted it, more than he’d ever imagined he could. It wasn’t just  _ hormones _ , it was love and relief and fear and about a million other messy things. Adam had been gone, lost, he’d thought, maybe  _ forever _ and now like a fucking miracle he was  _ back _ and Caleb craved him like he never had before. He’d thought the feeling of being reunited had caused things to escalate when they’d first gotten back together, but this… It was like he wouldn’t be satisfied unless he could get as close to Adam as physically possible, closer even than that; he wanted to crawl inside him and not leave until he could believe that he had really come back. He wanted to feel Adam’s warmth and get the confirmation that he was really  _ here _ . He wanted to hear the way his breath sped up and came in hushed little gasps, proof that he was really  _ alive _ . He wanted to be in that perfect green place where the world outside of the two of them fell away, and maybe then he’d believe that Adam was home, that they were both  _ home _ .

He wanted that still-new feeling, maybe the best in the fucking world, of making Adam  _ feel good _ . Of making Adam’s worries evaporate in pleasure. He wanted that more than the rest of it, to give Adam that, to feel Adam in the bliss of forgetting everything but feeling good together and losing himself in the mobius strip of that feeling.

But all of that seemed pretty fucking unlikely to come true, considering he could hardly get Adam to hold a conversation with him for more than twenty minutes, much less…

Honestly, given everything that had gone down, it was hard to believe how hot and heavy things had been only like two weeks earlier. It had been a couple months since they had bravely gone where many men had gone before and made their first experimental steps beyond making-out-and-dry-humping territory, into the unexplored terrain of inexperienced handjobs. It was a little embarrassing to think now how much their heightened expectations had not been met by that first time, everything a little too-dry and wrong-tempoed. His empathy had posed more of an obstacle than either of them had expected when they had entered a feedback loop of nervous insecurity, crowned by the probably much more typical problem of the whole thing being over much sooner than either of them had intended. It had maybe been a bit embarrassing and underwhelming, but they’d giggled at their own nerves and he’d still gotten the incomparable treat of watching and feeling and  _ feeling _ Adam while everything was erased by euphoria and he… well, needless to say, Caleb found himself  _ wishing _ for those problems back again.

The first real stirrings of arousal made him shift awkwardly in his seat, remembering how much better their subsequent attempts had gone than the first. They were both quick learners and devoted to the subject, eagerly learning to navigate the hitherto uncharted terrain of each other’s most vulnerable places and most vulnerable emotions. It had been scary but exhilarating, and better every time. The last time had been only days before Damien had first cornered Adam and set the whole domino effect in motion. It felt so long ago now, but the memory still came to Caleb with crystal clarity, mocking him. The way Adam had licked his palm matter-of-factly to lubricate things; it had caught Caleb by surprise and he had been unable to hide his appreciation of the erotic sight of Adam’s wet, pink tongue so close to his cock because his cock had actually  _ twitched _ at seeing it, bumping embarrassingly against Adam’s chin. The embarrassment had evaporated in the heat of the spike in arousal he felt from Adam, in the way he watched his eyes darken. Caleb had watched, rapt, as Adam’s expression had gone all serious and sexy and determined, as if Caleb were some sort of irresistible puzzle for him to unravel. His wet fingers had gripped Caleb at the root as Adam catapulted them fearlessly beyond inexperienced-handjob territory into the even more enticing and mysterious realm of inexperienced blowjobs. Caleb had felt Adam’s underlying self-consciousness, but it hadn’t kept him from kissing and licking, dragging his warm, soft,  _ wonderful _ mouth along  _ and around _ Caleb’s length a few times, grinning wide and smug when his tongue fluttering surprised Caleb’s climax from him with a sharp moan.

The bell rang, tugging Caleb (and some poor, similarly keyed-up classmate) painfully back to the present. He covertly adjusted his erection beneath the desk before standing up, shoving his ignored books into his bag and heading to lunch. The little expedition into such raw, personal memories had left him a little uncomfortably sensitive to all the feelings moving around him in the hallway and he hurried through the process of getting his lunch, arousal thoroughly lost to annoyance by the time he reached the spot outside where he and Adam usually ate, even despite the cold. His heart leapt happily to see Adam at their picnic table before him — that could be a good sign! — as he approached.

“Hey.” he greeted as he sat down across from Adam, smiling despite the layers of emotion he could sense on the other boy. Some of it was the familiar baseline sadness, but there was a strain of uncertainty and panic and harder to identify  _ stuff _ woven in there which he had been noticing more and more over the last couple of days.

“Hey, Caleb,” Adam greeted, and Caleb appreciated the sweet smile he shot him, even if the warmth of it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was a weird ball of longing that seemed to be lodged in Adam’s chest, and Caleb had no idea what that meant, “How’s your day going so far?”

That was another thing Adam had been doing, trying to keep the conversation focused on Caleb. Sometimes Caleb just let him, but today he was less inclined to do so, set a little on edge by the wandering of his mind in Trig, “It’s only been forty minutes since you saw me.” he pointed out.

“A lot can change in forty minutes.” Adam quipped, eyes drifting back down to the schoolwork he’d been focused on before Caleb had shown up.

“Math is still boring, Mr. Press is still a dweeb,” Caleb listed off casually, around a bite of sandwich, “Teenagers are still horny,” one of Adam’s eyebrows quirked but he didn’t actually look up from his work, “No major revelations.”

“Hm.” Adam responded, showing off his characteristic eloquence and quick wit. Not.

They said nothing for a few minutes and Caleb ate his way through his lunch, waiting and willing Adam to say anything. He could feel his discomfort, a little flicker of curiosity, a whole mess of guilt, and affection, and confusion. It gave Caleb a headache to try and untangle it, like staring too hard at an optical illusion, “So,” he said as he wiped his fingers on a paper napkin, “How about you?”

“Hm?” Adam said again, this time with the slight lifting pitch of a question.

“How’s your day going? Any revelations?”

Adam finally looked up from his work again, and Caleb felt nearly ashamed of the hopeful way his heart jumped as Adam’s eyes met his, “We talked about spacetime geometries and general relativity in Physics.” he said, with a faint echo of his usual wry tone.

“What does that mean in English?” Caleb teased.

“It means that someday, possibly, if a whole shit ton of research and funding were poured into it,” he leaned over the table, lowering his voice as he finished conspiratorially, “Time travel could become possible.”

Caleb grinned, “That can’t be,” he played along, “Those theories are highly atypical.”

Adam rolled his eyes broadly, but his grin actually lit his whole face this time, waking up the butterflies in Caleb’s stomach, “I guess you’re the authority.”

It occurred to Caleb that maybe he’d been approaching things all wrong. Maybe he should have been seeking a moment like this one to try and get Adam to open up. After all, he was more open right now than he’d been in days. It had to go better than it had when he’d asked questions while Adam was all shuttered and closed off. Taking courage from the twinkling of Adam’s eyes, Caleb asked, “Speaking of atypical,” not his strongest segue, but he forged onward, “How are you doing about, um, everything? Do you want to maybe—”

To Caleb’s plummeting disappointment, Adam scrambled to his feet, gathering his things and stuffing them into his bag, “I’d love to talk more,” Caleb felt the bitter metallic taste of a blatant lie on the back of his tongue, “But I actually gotta go? I have to catch up on, uh, some stuff I missed for APUSH. So.”

“Oh,” Caleb said, courage from an instant before withering rapidly, “G-gotcha, yeah. I’ll see ya, um, later, I guess.”

“Sure, Caleb.” Adam said, but as he turned away and slung his backpack over one shoulder, Caleb felt a spike of pain from him, regretful yearn-y pain, like Adam didn’t really want to walk away from him at all. It was the most concrete thing he’d felt from him since he’d come back and his own heart ached with it.

“Wait!” he called after him, getting to his feet. Adam turned back, expression guarded but hopeful curiosity simmering palpably in him, “I, uh, I’ve been meaning to ask…” Caleb felt Adam closing off again and said the first thing that came into his head, “I’m going over to Sam’s tomorrow, and I was wondering if you, um… want to maybe come too?”

Adam scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “I dunno, I mean, I don’t think my parents would go for it.”

“C’mon,” Caleb coaxed, “Not all Atypicals are bad.”

A jab of surprise from Adam, “Of course!” he said, sincere, “I mean, yeah, no, I know. They know, too. That’s… not what I meant, I just…” he shrugged.

“What they don’t know won’t kill them,” Caleb tried, offering Adam back an excuse he’d used himself more than once. One corner of Adam’s mouth flickered into a smirk, but Caleb could still feel his hesitance, “I’ll keep you safe,” he offered, a little gentler and more sincere. There was no swell of confidence or comfort from Adam, and Caleb would have been lying if he claimed that didn’t sting a bit. In one last ditch effort, he tacked on, “They miss you, Adam.”  _ I miss you. _

“Okay, okay,” Adam said, with an uneasy laugh, “You don’t have to give it the hard sell. I’ll come if you want me to that badly.” Caleb nodded vigorously, pleased when Adam laughed again, “See ya.” and slouched off with a wave, his heart not quite so heavy as a moment before.

Caleb immediately pulled out his phone.

Caleb: [12:21pm] hey is it ok if me n adam come over tomorrow

Caleb: [12:21pm] ?

The answer came almost instantaneously.

Sam: [12:22pm] Yeah! Of course! You know you boys are always welcome! Just let me know when you’re coming over, ok?

Caleb: [12:22pm] thanks sam! You da best

Caleb got sucked into mindless scrolling for a couple minutes, before a follow-up text from Sam came in. He could practically feel her trademark anxiety from here.

Sam: [12:28pm] Is something up? I can’t imagine I’m your first choice of chaperone and I’m sure things aren’t just back to normal since everything that happened. Is everything ok?

Caleb read the text a few times before replying honestly.

Caleb: [12:30pm] Tbh i really dont know

  
  


**~Damien~**

“How are you doing today, Robert?” Wadsworth asked, as pleasantly as if she were making polite conversation with the barista who poured her morning coffee.

“Fuck you,” Damien responded, matching her pleasant tone.

“It doesn’t have to be like this, you know,” Wadsworth clucked, “If you would only cooperate, this could really be mutually beneficial.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve heard the testimonials of your little resort,” Damien sneered, pushing at her mind even though he knew he’d find the same immunity there as always, the same wall keeping him out, “It didn’t sound like you were too interested in benefiting anyone but yourself.”

Wadsworth continued peering down at the clipboard in her hands, “It’s a shame Byron feels that way about it, but what we learned from our work with him has the potential to benefit many atypicals. And I’m sure we could accomplish the same, Robert, knowledge benefits all of us, after all.”

“That’s a mighty pretty sentiment, Annabelle, but why should I believe you?” Damien asked, “Why would you want to benefit me when you could just punish me?”

There was a hint of real amusement in Wadsworth’s smile, and somehow that was worse than the fake smiles, “Why would I choose at all when I could kill two birds with one stone?” Before Damien could come up with a response to that, Wadsworth tapped the clipboard with the back of her pen, “What is your range?”

“What?” 

She spoke slower, as if he was too stupid to understand the question, “How close do you need to be to someone to manipulate them?”

“I repeat, fuck you.” Damien offered as a response.

Wadsworth rolled her eyes, “My, Joan really wasn’t being hyperbolic in her notes. You are really impossible to like.”

Damien snorted, though something within him grew brittle at hearing the words all the same, “Dr. B didn’t say that.”

Wadsworth’s eyebrows lifted and she looked at him with bland curiosity, “What makes you so sure? You were well aware that she was less than fond of your… sessions, if you could even call them that, and yet you continued to  _ harass her _ .”

“As if you care,” Damien rolled his eyes, “I might not be Dr. B’s favorite patient, but she doesn’t hate me nearly as much as she hates you,” Wadsworth blinked at him and then began scribbling something down on the clipboard. Despite himself, Damien’s heart sank, “What? You’re writing that down? That has nothing to do with my ability.”

“Ah, yes, Robert,” Wadsworth did not look up from whatever she was writing, “Thank you for getting us back on task. You were just telling me your range.”

“ _ No _ , I was just telling you to go fuck yourself!” Wadsworth showed no sign of having heard him at all and Damien felt the sense of helplessness that had been squirming in his guts since waking up in Tier 5 give an ugly wriggle. He had never felt so completely impotent, not even after Mark had so unceremoniously plucked his power out of his head. His words were the only tool he had, and he’d be damned if he didn’t use them any way he could, “If you want to know about my power, why not just ask Adam?” he asked.

Wadsworth’s fingers tightened around her pen, and he knew he had her, “If you’d like to maintain the civility of this conversation, Robert,  _ don’t _ mention my nephew again.”

“Eh,” Damien shrugged, “I’ve never cared much for civility, to tell you the truth, Annabelle,” he grinned when she finally lowered the clipboard and glared at him, “All the phony rules and taboos of polite society, so  _ stifling _ . Don’t you agree?”

“I’m not going to ask so nicely the next time,” Wadsworth warned, “What is your range, Robert?”

“Your question is too simplistic, Annabelle.”

“How so?” Wadsworth’s nostrils flared, “It’s a straightforward, routine question.”

“Well, you’re a woman of science, aren’t you, Director?” Damien teased, “There are  _ variables. _ ”

“Variables?” she repeated, interest piqued though she tried to hide it, “Such as?”

“Oh, loads of things. Sobriety, for one thing,” Damien rattled off, “Intelligence.”

“Am I correct in assuming you have an easier time manipulating those who are unintelligent or under the influence of drugs or alcohol?”

“Correctomundo,” Damien watched as Wadsworth took note of that, “And normies are usually easier than freaks like me.”

“You have more difficulty manipulating fellow Atypicals?” Wadsworth was ensnared now, academic curiosity blatant on her face.

“You can’t really think it’s that simple,” Damien said smoothly, “If anyone knows how different the brains of atypicals are, I’d think it would be you.”

“So, the ease of manipulation is influenced by someone’s ability?” Wadsworth concluded.

“Right again. Telepaths tend to be harder, empaths are eager to please, that kind of thing.” Damien saw her lip twitch and was sure she was going to inquire about the empath kid, but she did not.

“Interesting. And Non-Atypicals?”

“Well, freak or not, it all boils down to willpower,” her brow creased in curiosity, “I don’t need to tell you how powerful Mark is, but he was pretty easy to string along. But Dr. B is pretty stubborn, and that nephew of yours?” the nostrils flared again, like a dragon ready to breathe flame, “He couldn’t stop me, but boy, did he put up a fight.”

“You are trying to get a reaction out of me, Robert, and I don’t appreciate it.” Wadsworth said.

“I’m just answering your straightforward, routine question, Director.” Damien gave her the best innocent look he could muster.

“Can you use your ability on multiple people at once?” Wadsworth asked, her tone unreadable and diplomatic, which told Damien just how successfully he was bothering her.

He rolled his eyes, “You’re throwing away valuable lab time here, Annabelle,” he said, “There were seven people there when I scooped Adam up, and they were all powerless to stop me.”

“You still have a black eye, Robert,” she observed coldly, “I thought you said empaths were easy,”  _ ah, there it was, _ “Your intel isn’t adding up.”

“Willpower.” he pointed out.

She arched an eyebrow, “Are you sure that was the only… variable? Could it be that seven may have been a bit more than your power could handle?”

Damien scowled, “I still came out of that on top.”

“Are you sure about that, Robert?” Wadsworth smiled, “How much good did that  _ leverage _ really do? I suppose it’s a matter of perspective, but it doesn’t look to me as though you’re the one on top.”

The powerless feeling festered, the words sliding off his tongue like bile, a desperate bid to throw Wadsworth off her game, “That’s another question you’ll have to ask your nephew.” 

“ _ Excuse me?” _ there it was, a glimpse of the unhinged Wadsworth he’d heard about.

“Don’t fret, Annabelle,” Damien gave her his best twisted smile, “It was nothing I didn’t make sure he  _ wanted. _ ”

“ _ Enough _ ,” Wadsworth spat, “Enough talking,” she crossed the room, heels clicking angrily against the tiles, “I believe a practical exploration of your ability will be more informative.” she said briskly, and left the room.

Damien shared a smile with himself, satisfied that he could manipulate even without his power. The satisfaction soured as he considered what he’d had to say to do it, and what exactly a ‘practical exploration’ under Wadsworth might look like now that she had all the more reason to hate him. Fuck it, what did he have left to lose?

_November 19, 2016_

**~Mark~**

Maybe he still just wasn’t used to being back in the real fucking world, but Mark was still kind of having a hard time feeling like hanging out with teenagers was  _ normal _ . Okay, so maybe he  _ definitely _ wasn’t used to being back in the world, but it was weird, wasn’t it? Sam had said it like it was a normal thing, ‘Caleb and Adam are gonna drop by’, but then, by her own admission, Sam wasn’t exactly the authority on normal ways of being socia. So, maybe he was right to find it weird.

Or maybe it wasn’t the age difference that made it weird, but… well, every single other thing about the four of them. At any rate, it wasn’t exactly going smoothly.

It had seemed okay at first. Caleb and Adam had showed up a little after six and they hadn’t been holding hands. Admittedly, Mark had no idea what was normal anymore, and he couldn’t say he knew the two boys well, but he’d basically never seen the two of them  _ not _ hand-in-hand. Apart from in the moments before Damien took Adam. They said their hellos all around and then didn’t know what to say, and it was around that moment that Caleb’s empathy caught up with Mark and he realized he could feel a whole tempest of emotions that didn’t belong to him.

It was mostly nerves; all of them were nervous. It was a whole shitload more than that at the same time, though. Adam was at the center of a veritable cyclone of feelings, one that struck Mark as oddly familiar. It didn’t feel unlike he’d felt on the heels of his roadtrip with Damien, or if he thought too long about Tier 5. He was relieved, though, that Adam didn’t seem to be saddled with any misguided attraction to Damien at the very least. 

And Caleb was all insecurity, which was not how he’d felt to Mark in the past. He was tangled in knots about something, stretched and distended with longing and guilt.  _ Oh, _ so that was the reflection of Adam. He felt a wall of discomfort and tension from Caleb and their eyes met, both cringing against the inward momentum of an empathy-loop doing its best to suck them in.

“Pizza okay with everyone?” Sam cut in, her voice tense but effectively cutting through the involuntary empathy mind-meld.

“Sure,” “Yeah,” “Okay,” they all answered in unison.

Sam laughed nervously, “Caleb, why don’t you, um, come into the kitchen with me? To, to look at the menu?” Mark shot her a look of gratitude, a little space would be a huge help to get them acclimatized again to sharing Caleb’s power.

“Oh,” Caleb said, glancing at Adam. Mark felt his tremble of worry that Adam would disappear if he let him out of his sight, the same way Joanie had felt about him after he’d first returned, “Um, yeah, sure.”

“You know what I like,” Adam assured him uncertainly, apparently oblivious to the real meaning behind Caleb’s look. Caleb waggled his eyebrows suggestively, but even without empathy, it was easy to tell his heart wasn’t in it. He followed Sam into the kitchen and the scrubbed-raw-ness of the empathy softened a little and Mark let out a small relieved sigh. Adam looked at him, dark eyes flicking over his expression for only a couple seconds before asking, “Does it suck for you?”

“Does what suck for me?” Mark asked, slightly bemused even if he was still a little overwhelmed by the sorta-familiar-but-also-unfamiliar feelings just beneath Adam’s surface.

“Being around Caleb,” he asked, before amending, “Well, being around other Atypicals in general, I guess, not just Caleb.”

“It… can be tough, yeah,” Mark answered, “Empathy’s not so bad, especially if everyone is in good spirits,” a bend in Adam’s emotions and the flattening of his lips clued Mark in and he immediately amended, “Not, not that it’s bad! If people aren’t like, you know… happy.”

Adam groaned and sat on the couch, “Sorry, man.” he said.

“It’s okay,” Mark assured, also taking a seat, “I, of all people, get that you would be a little out of sorts right now.”

Adam frowned, “But it’s super obvious,” he said, a statement rather than a question, “That I’m, ya know, ‘out of sorts’,” Mark nodded and Adam groaned again, “Which means it’s just as obvious to Caleb.”

“I’m sure he’s okay with it,” Mark assured, trying to soothe the panicky sadness that was threatening to swallow up Adam, “He loves you, I’m sure he understands that you… that Damien...” Mark trailed off, absolutely unsure how in the hell to word what he was trying to say.

“I guess it was a no, then.” Adam said, looking at Mark and feeling something like disappointment and curiosity, but distorted.

Mark didn’t know what the hell that meant, “ _ What _ was a no?”

“Damien,” Adam said, as if that clarified anything, “I guess you weren’t interested. I thought you might say no.”

Mark shook his head, confused, “What are you talking about? Not interested in  _ what? _ ”

Suspicion bloomed in Adam’s internal landscape, bleeding into Mark, “Damien got in touch with you, didn’t he?” Mark shook his head, “After giving me back?”

“No,” Mark answered honestly, “I haven’t heard a peep from him.”

“You… haven’t?” Worry overtook Adam’s thoughts. Concern, but it was a shade of concern that Mark was all too familiar with, reluctant involuntary concern that Adam was a little surprised to discover he even felt. He frowned deeply, “He should have… he… I don’t think he’s okay.”

“Trust me, Adam, Damien can take care of himself,” Mark reassured, but it didn’t make Adam feel any calmer.

“But… Ann—” Adam felt an apologetic cringe at bringing her up as he said, “My  _ aunt _ , she… what if she, like… tricked him?”

“Well, I can’t say I would fucking be surprised, she’s a—” Mark caught himself before he said anything to traumatize the kid any further than he already was, even if his aunt was the monster that haunted most of his own nightmares, “Listen, Adam, you don’t owe Damien  _ anything _ . I know it feels like you care about him — really,  _ I do _ , I can literally feel your feelings,” Adam shifted uneasily, “But also, I feel, um felt…  _ feel _ the same way about him. But it’s not real.”

“You’re saying it’s Stockholm Syndrome, right?” Adam asked, and his voice held a world-weariness that no one his age should have to carry.

Mark gave a mirthless laugh, “I dunno, I’m not the psychologist in the family,” Adam mustered a small smile, “But yeah, something like that.”

“He’s just so…” Adam shrugged and Mark felt some of the elements of his own confused feelings about Damien in Adam, the sympathy that might have been pity, the resentment, the involuntary sense of responsibility.

“I know,” Mark said gently, “But you’re not responsible for him.”

“But… you are?” Adam glanced away as he asked.

Mark was grateful that Adam wasn’t able to wield Caleb’s empathy, or he would have felt the confused answering swell of Mark’s sense of responsibility, of fondness, of attraction, and the anger that followed all of it. Because he hadn’t fucking  _ agreed _ to feel any of it, and it didn’t make sense that he did even without Damien  _ making _ him feel it. But he did, “I…  _ no _ , I’m not either, but you’re  _ really not _ , Adam.”

“Because I’m a kid?” Adam asked, and Mark could feel the adolescent frustration that he’d been chock-full of at that age, the resistance to the conundrum of it all, that no one saw him as an adult but he definitely wasn’t a  _ child _ .

“I mean,” he felt shitty being one of those adults he’d resented. God, he felt old, “Well, yeah, kinda.”

Adam made a face, “It’s just…” he tucked some of his fluffy black curls behind one ear impatiently, “He’s like… not that bad, is he?”

Mark grimaced, “No, he’s not,” he agreed, “And at the same time, he really is.”

A glitter of appreciation through the dreary sludge of Adam’s emotions, “Exactly!”

“I really do get it.” Mark said.

Adam picked viciously at the cuticle of his left thumb, “He might be in real trouble. Do you think she’d—?”

Thank all the powers that be, Caleb and Sam took that moment to come back into the room and all talk of Damien ceased. Mark tried not to worry about their conversation, about the thought of Damien strapped into Tier 5 as he had been all those years. There was a grim irony to it, that Damien busted him out only to replace him. And… no one  _ deserved _ to be a lab rat, but it wasn’t like Damien was innocent either! Why couldn’t he take his own advice and shake this goddamn sense of responsibility for the man?

The pizza came and they put on a movie, but Mark barely even noticed what it was. He was torn between his concerns about Damien, echoed back at his from Adam’s head, and Caleb’s feelings. Sam had curled against Mark on one end of the couch, leaving plenty of room for the boys. She was worried — she was  _ usually  _ worried — but she also felt safe, and protective, and amusement at the movie and Mark let her emotions and the soft weight of her against his body soothe him. 

Adam sat on the opposite end of the couch with Caleb on the middle cushion, his feelings consumed the entire length of the movie with desire and insecurity. It took a little while for Mark to parse that it was over the urge to take Adam’s hand or cuddle with him. Mark ached with the realization that whatever exactly had transpired with Damien had fractured the relationship between the two teenagers.

Caleb met his eyes, and he remembered that the young empath could feel his feelings of pity. He tried to turn it into hope, into optimism that they’d get through it. Caleb gave a barely-there smile of thanks, but his feelings did not mirror the weak optimism at all. He looked back at the TV and did not take his boyfriend’s hand.

Mark really hoped that Adam was wrong, that Damien was okay. But at the same time… it was a lot easier to hate him for fucking up these two innocent kids than for what he’d done to Mark. Damien hadn’t done him any good, but hell, he’d already been damaged beyond repair long before Damien did his thing. Or maybe he just didn’t care enough about himself to be mad about it.


	4. Tormented

_November 20, 2016_

**~Ellie~**

“How are you today, Robert?” Ellie asked as she entered the observation room, “Rested up from yesterday I hope?”

“Don’t pretend to care.” Damien said, glaring at her from the chair. He’d asked her the previous day, before their first practical trials, if it was the same chair she’d strapped Mark into. He’d seemed surprised when she had confirmed as much. More than surprised, _‘highly agitated’_ she’d put in her notes. She was hoping to agitate him as effectively today, as it seemed his ability was most accessible to him when he felt threatened or otherwise distressed.

“Oh, but Robert, I _do_ care,” she assured, “We have so much still to explore concerning your ability. We can’t have you burning out so soon.”

“I’m not fucking burning out.” Damien spat.

“That’s wonderful to hear.” Ellie smiled politely and inspected the injuries from the day before. They were only superficial, but it was best to keep a close eye all the same.

Damien’s adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed nervously, eyeing her as she took a step back from him, looking relieved to have her hands off of him. She’d have to take note of that in his file, “So,” he said, his bravado wavering, “We playing the same game as yesterday?”

“More or less,” Ellie’s smile did not budge, “Joan seemed rather confident in her hypothesis that your ability to manipulate the desires of others was dictated by what you yourself truly wanted, but in light of yesterday’s data I remain unconvinced.”

“Can you really fucking measure what I want by forcing me to do things?” Damien’s voice was somewhere between his usual affected drawl and a defensive snarl, his shoulders bracing for a repeat of the previous day, “Seems like that might skew your precious _data_ , Annabelle.”

“Such theatrics, Robert,” Annabelle tutted, “We’re not _forcing_ you to do anything.”

“Oh, really? What do you call it, then?” he tugged against his restraints as the door opened, allowing in a couple of AM employees who had volunteered to help. Damien’s eyes immediately zeroed in on the tray of shiny implements one of them carried, “Just a jolly, high-stakes, mad scientist game of _Would You Rather_?”

“Well, I confess I don’t have your colorful way with words, Robert,” Ellie responded airily, seating herself across from him just as she had the day before. These trials were so much easier now that she didn’t have to observe from the other side of glass, beyond the Atypical’s range, “But I’m glad to see that you do appear to remember how this works.”

“You’re insane.” Damien said, shaking his head.

“I’m perfectly sane, Robert,” Ellie assured him, “Now let’s begin, shall we?”

  
  
  


_November 21, 2016_

**~Adam~**

Adam _really_ wished he could talk to Caleb about this. He felt better about facing most things after hearing Caleb’s perspective. Of course, there was a not-insignificant chance that his perspective on this particular question would be something along the lines of _‘are you sure it’s a good idea to call the fucking Atypical snatcher?'_ but nevertheless. Not too long ago, it would have baffled Adam to even imagine making this kind of call without at least getting his boyfriend’s input. 

But were they boyfriends? Not too long ago, questioning that would have seemed unthinkable, too; when they’d gotten back together, they had made all kinds of sappy promises to never let anything come between them again. That seemed pretty naive now. But they weren’t actually broken up, even if that was basically only because Adam lacked the guts to do what had to be done. But how could he do it? How could he look Caleb in the eye and lie to him when Caleb’s fucking superpower ensured that he would feel it all, feel the untruth of it and Adam’s pain at lying? It was such a catch-22, because that — his fucking empathy — was why it should end in the first place. Caleb was so good, and full of potential, and relatively well-adjusted. Not like Adam, nothing like Adam. It wasn't fair to expect him to lug around someone else's trauma. Adam loved him way too much to be a burden to him.

Trauma. That's what his therapist had called it. As if " _persistent depressive disorder_ " hadn't been bad enough, now he apparently had _trauma_. Goody. Add that to the being gay and the being caught in the wake of a government conspiracy and he was well on his way to some fucked up kind of BINGO win. Adam wondered if the newly-minted trauma was what was responsible for what he planned to do next. He could always ask his therapist but it would have to wait a week. He was supposed to be in her office right now. He had promised his mom that he’d take the bus over, that he’d text her when he got there, when he left, when he got home. And he’d sent the texts, but he’d just gone home as usual, back to his empty house rather than to the therapist’s second floor office that always smelled like tea tree oil. He paced the length of his bedroom, his new phone weighing like an anvil in his hand.

Dr. Bright’s brother had said that it wasn't Adam’s responsibility. And he was probably right. Adam had gone ‘round in circles in his head since his talk with Mark, unsure what to do, and paralyzed by his own indecision, wishing he could talk to Caleb about it, but refusing to ask for Caleb’s help when he didn’t even have the decency to grow a spine and break up with him properly. No, the whole idea was to _not_ burden Caleb. This was his burden, and his decision, even if it wasn’t his responsibility. He wasn't responsible for Damien, he could believe that much, but what if this wasn't really even _about_ Damien? 

It wasn't like Damien was the first Atypical that had disappeared. Because of his aunt. Maybe it was about her, and about Adam. How could he be complicit, how could he turn a blind eye? He’d never hesitated to speak up for what he thought was right before, from exercising his right to refrain from standing for the Pledge of Allegiance since seventh grade, to insisting on giving his full presentation in APUSH about how Ronald Reagan’s policies had contributed to the decimation of queer communities in the wake of the AIDS outbreak, to any number of other things. Adam had never let himself off the hook when he could speak truth to power. 

And, sure, Damien was a fucked up guy who had probably fucked Adam up for life, and it would be one thing if Damien were awaiting trial for kidnapping and coercion or whatever, if he could expect due process. Not that that system was perfect, but it at least had some shit in place to uphold something resembling justice. That, Adam could live with. But going off the half-answers and implications that were all anyone was willing to give him now that they saw him as a _victim_ , on top of being a _kid_ and a _Non-Atypical_ , Damien was facing something that bore more of a resemblance to, like, a POW camp or something even worse. No one deserved to be imprisoned without a fair trial, and though Adam couldn't hope to single-handedly fix the deeply broken American justice system, he might be the only person who could change _this_.

Before he could talk himself out of it again, Adam was hitting the call button and lifting his phone to his ear.

Maybe she won't pick up, he thought hopefully after the third ring, but that hope was chased off by the sound of his aunt's voice, “Adam! Is everything alright?”

“You don't _always_ have to greet me like that, Annabelle,” he pointed out, “I'm not actually planning on getting abducted again or whatever.”

“I'm sorry, of course I know that,” Annabelle said, having the decency to sound a little embarrassed. She sounded sincerely interested when she asked instead, “How are you doing, Adam?”

He had the suspicion that she was still talking to his trauma, not to him. It was a subtle difference, but palpably different from how she had always talked to him in the past. Like an adult and an equal, even when he’d been a little kid. He felt a pang for all that had been shattered between them, but he didn't comment on her tone or on any of it, answering simply, “I'm okay.”

“It's great to hear from you, Adam.” Annabelle said, again that intentional note of sincerity in her voice. He wondered if that was just a switch she flipped when she needed to be perceived as genuinely caring, or if she actually did care. He had no idea what to trust or how to even begin to address the gulf of distrust that now yawned between them.

“Do you have Damien at The AM?” He asked instead. 

“I'm sorry, what was that?” Annabelle asked.

“You heard me.” Adam pressed, “Damien. Do you have Damien locked up?”

Annabelle was silent for a second and Adam waited, standing in the middle of his bedroom letting his eyes trail around the familiar trappings. Then she said softly, reassuringly, “You don't have to worry, Adam. He won't ever hurt you again.”

It wasn’t at all reassuring, “Is that a yes?”

“Yes, Adam, you don't need to concern—” Annabelle began.

“You have him locked up just like Mark, don't you?” Adam pushed, a little surprised by the spark of anger he felt, “You're experimenting on him?”

“His ability is very unique, we only—” Annabelle sounded a little impatient, and it only stoked the flames licking at Adam’s ribs.

“Yeah!” Adam interrupted hotly, “Yeah, Annabelle, don't you think I fucking _know_ about his ability? He was _in my head_ for almost a week!”

“I’m so sorry, I got you out of—” 

“That’s _not_ what I want to talk about!”

“Adam,” Annabelle said delicately, “I-I have to ask, did he—?”

“No!” Adam’s eyes had found their way to the corkboard over his desk, covered in ticket stubs, photos, and odds and ends like that. He glared at the picture of an even-more-awkward younger him with Annabelle’s arm draped proudly around his shoulders after he’d won a spelling bee years ago, “No, he didn’t and I _wish_ everyone would stop implying that just—” he sucked in an inhale through his nose, “No, you know what, no. This isn't about what he did, Annabelle. This is about what _you've_ done.”

“I'm not the bad guy here, Adam.” Annabelle soothed ineffectually.

Adam scoffed a laugh, “Annabelle, c’mon, give me a little credit! After all our talks about, about _Titus Andronicus_ and, and moral ambiguity, don't talk to me like I'm some kid who thinks there's always a good guy and a bad guy! I know shit isn’t that simple!”

“I know, Adam, you're very bright and—”

“Don't _pander_ to me, Annabelle. Just tell me the score. Do you have Aaron the moor in the dungeon?” The analogy felt a little dramatic, but what the hell, Adam had _earned_ the right to be a little dramatic about this.

“Adam, I don't have a dungeon—”

“Tier 5 then, whatever you want to call it, it’s still a dungeon.” Adam seethed.

“...a rose by any other name…” Annabelle mused, and somehow, somehow that confirmation hurt worse than if she had just said it plainly.

“Annabelle,” Adam’s eyes prickled. Trading Shakespeare references bore a distinct resemblance to their old repartee, but it was like a perversion of something that had been so good, “Please,” he implored, “I’m not a kid anymore. Just tell me the truth.”

“You can't honestly think I would have just given him what he wanted after he took you, _hurt_ you,” Annabelle’s voice had gone low and fierce, “I love you, Adam, you must know that.”

“I do, Annabelle,” Adam sighed, “That's why I’m asking you to change. Let him go. Let… I don’t know, change the whole system.”

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me,” she said, firmly, “The systems in place serve all of—”

“No, I’m not interested in that bullshit company line,” Adam insisted, “You have power to actually change things—”

“Rob- _Damien_ hurt you—”

“And it, it doesn't change anything!” Adam shouted, “Nothing you do can make what he did to me any less fucked up, but you can't just falsely imprison people, Annabelle! You-you have _no idea_ what it's like to-to be a _prisoner_! I know what's it's like and—”

“You _shouldn_ 't know, I cannot simply—”

“You _cannot simply_ lock people up for how they’re born!” 

The words hung between them for a second before Annabelle spoke again calmly, “Adam,” she said, “There’s so much you don’t know.”

“Then _tell me_ ! Tell me how you can possibly justify locking Atypicals up and _torturing_ them!” 

“It’s not torture.” Annabelle lied.

Adam grimaced, “We both know that’s bullshit, Annabelle,” he said wearily, “You-you don't have to chop off someone s hands for it to be torture.”

Annabelle sighed, crackling in the microphone, “Adam, it’s… not just about you. It’s about humanity at large, Atypicals and Non-Atypicals. Damien’s ability could teach us so much—”

“I don't care.” Adam sat on the edge of his bed.

“But knowledge serves—” Annabelle started. 

“I'm all for the pursuit of knowledge, Annabelle,” Adam shook his head even though she couldn’t see, “But _not_ without the source's informed, explicit, and freely given _uncoerced_ consent. Please... tell me you know the difference.”

“Of course, I do,” Annabelle assured him, “But sometimes exceptions must be made. Atypicals can’t always be treated like everyone else. They start leagues ahead of us. They have the advantage. It was never fair to begin with so we do what we can to catch up.”

“The game is rigged so you cheat.” Adam said, and it tasted sour on his tongue.

“We do what we need to. For the greater good.”

“I _hate_ that.” Adam said, point-blank.

“I know.”

“Do you?” Adam asked, dreading the answer a little, “Hate it?”

Annabelle chose her words with care, “I dislike how messy it gets.”

Adam pulled a face at that, “But it _bothers_ you, right? What you’ve done to people? I can maybe, _maybe_ understand doing something bad if you think you’re doing it to help people, but… you seem fine with it.”

“Adam,” Annabelle explained calmly, “I know you know things aren’t always so black and white. But life is so complicated. It’s chaotic and disorderly and we have to make order where we can. That can mean doing things we don’t like, but we do them because they’re necessary.”

“But you don’t like it right?” Adam asked, feeling a little like he was begging, “You don’t like hurting people?”

“Of course, I don’t.” Annabelle responded immediately.

“...But it doesn’t really bother you, does it?”

“I have bigger things to worry about.” Adam’s stomach turned at that.

“Fuck that, Annabelle,” he shuddered, “That- that kind of freaks me out.”

“I know, Adam, and that’s exactly why I do what I do,” she tried to explain, “I don’t want you to be freaked out. Ever. I want you to read Shakespeare and spend your life being safe and being happy. I need to protect you and part of that is—”

“Stop trying to justify it!” Adam cut her off.

Annabelle gave another sigh before saying quietly, “...he could hurt you again.”

“He won't.” Adam countered, a little surprised by his own confidence in it.

“You can't know that.” Annabelle said.

“Annabelle,” Adam said slowly, “This isn't about Damien.”

“Isn't it?”

“No, it's about _you._ It's about my favorite aunt, my _role model_ not being the person I thought she was!”

“I'm the same person, Adam.” she had the decency to sound wounded. Whether she really was or not, he couldn’t say.

“No,” he disagreed, “Not if you keep doing what you've been doing! Not if you keep being okay with it. Knowledge isn't worth _torturing_ innocent people!”

“They're dangerous, Adam!” Annabelle insisted.

_“You're_ dangerous!” Adam disputed, “And…” he steeled himself, “I... don't think I can have you in my life unless you change. Release Damien and stop doing what you're doing at The AM.”

“...is that… an ultimatum?” Annabelle sounded shocked, and _maybe_ just a tiny bit impressed.

“Yeah, well,” Adam sighed, “I learned from the best. Bye, Annabelle.” He ended the call and flopped back on his bed. His heart was racing; he’d never argued with Aunt Annabelle before. They’d always gotten along.

How fucked up was that? He’d _gotten along perfectly_ with someone who touted the fucking greater good like a comic book villain! She’d always made him feel so smart and grown-up and capable… had he really been so vain that some ego-stroking was all it took for him to not notice that her 9-to-5 involved torturing people like his boyfriend?

The thought of Caleb was like a lance through his heart. His phone was still in his hand and he clicked over to Caleb’s contact in seconds, but his thumb hesitated over the call button. He wanted to call, _god_ , there was nothing in the world he wanted more right now than Caleb’s voice in his ear. Caleb would know right away that he wasn’t okay and he’d say just the right things to bring him back to earth. Adam had no idea what those things were anymore, he felt so far from earth, spinning out into the abyss and away from the comforting hold of its gravity.

He hadn’t set a contact picture for Caleb yet and he wished that he had. If he’d been looking at his picture maybe that would have softened his resolve enough to call. Instead he tossed the phone aside onto his pillows and tugged at his hair, trying desperately to reel in his thoughts with his hands. He couldn’t, of course, because that was fucking impossible, and because he was _him_ , just Adam, and as always he was totally fucking powerless.

A desperate sob escaped his throat and he realized he was crying. When he’d started crying was a mystery. His body was doing things without him noticing, without him telling it to, and well, what the fuck else was new? Maybe this body wasn’t even his at all, just a puppet that he happened to have been the one in charge of for most of seventeen years before it had been made suddenly and irrefutably clear to him that he was not the one in control.

He tried to feel connected to his body, pulled his hair harder and that helped just a little. Then, an idea. A desperate idea that he wasn’t proud of, one he’d shoved from his thoughts by and large for the better part of two years. It used to work, though. It used to narrow his focus in on himself, it used to feel like control, it used to feel like opening a release valve for all the impotent anger and roiling self-hatred and the bitter black loneliness. 

His feet were moving without him telling them to, and that might have made him feel worse if it hadn’t been for the tunnel vision. He lurched to his desk and rifled through the pens and highlighters, erasers and staples and thumbdrives. He held the blue safety scissors for a second’s deliberation before dropping them and staggering across the hall to the bathroom. He opened the medicine cabinet with a little more force than necessary, scanning the three little shelves until he found what he was looking for. Nestled between a box of alka-seltzer and a little plastic cylinder of cotton pads, the discreet little box of razor blades. Dad had hidden them for a while, but at some point he’d stopped, figuring that Adam had left that phase behind. 

Adam didn’t dare spare another thought to that; the fact that he’d thought the same thing; the fact that mom and dad would be so disappointed to know they’d been wrong. No. He couldn’t think about that stuff right now, he couldn’t think about anything through the too-loud implosion inside his skull, the pressure that he could only alleviate this one way.

He felt guilt, and shame, but also relief as the cold keen edge of the razor parted the skin — his skin — and he watched blood well to the surface that belonged only to him.

_November 22, 2016_

**~Sam~**

Sam sipped her tea and watched Caleb frown into the contents of his own mug, appearing completely deaf to every word Chloe was saying about a newfound appreciation of ‘glitch art’. She had been a little worried about him ever since he and Adam had come over the other night, but it had taken five days for her to actually ask him to meet her for coffee, and even then it was only after Chloe saw it in her thoughts and shoved the ball into motion. Seeing the state he was in now, she wished she’d done something sooner. She felt acutely protective of Caleb, and, if she was honest with herself, acutely guilty that everything that had happened with Damien had happened under her roof. She had stumbled into this new little Atypical family and she was terrified that she was going to hurt them, fail them. The safe house was supposed to be _safe_ , to _protect them_ , and instead, just like with her parents, she had done nothing when it really mattered.

“...and taking the imperfections and turning that on its head, making that the whole point, or well, not _the point_ , but the aesthetic language is just so _exciting_ , it’s like — _Sam_! Nobody thinks that!”

“ _Chloe,_ ” Sam hissed, at the same time Caleb blinked out of his thoughts to say, “Thinks what?”

“That she’s responsible for everything that happened with Damien and Adam,” Chloe said, her excitement about ‘glitch art’ set aside for the time being.

“Chlo, I’m sure Caleb would rather—” Sam started.

“How’re _you_ responsible for it?” Caleb asked.

“Well, it was my house,” Sam shrugged, looking into her half-mug of English Breakfast.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Caleb said simply, “I know you’ve been feeling, like, crazy guilty, but it’s not on you.”

“It’s not on you, either, Caleb,” Chloe pointed out. Sam didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that that was what Caleb had been thinking. It was his turn to shrug and scowl down at his tea, “That’s not true.” she said, responding to a thought Sam was not privy to.

“ _Chloe_ ,” Caleb whined, “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Are you sure?” she asked, arching one eyebrow and scooping some whipped cream off of her complicated-looking drink with her finger, “Because it’s like the only thing you can think about,” she licked the whipped cream off her finger and added thoughtfully, “Yeah, that’s true.”

Caleb groaned and when Sam cocked her head, Chloe clarified in a stage whisper, “It’s true that Adam’s _always_ the only thing he can think about.”

“Chloe, just because he’s thinking about it doesn’t mean he wants to hash it all out with us,” Sam scolded, “Sorry, Caleb.”

“It’s _fine_ ,” Caleb mumbled, “If I wanted to guard my secrets I wouldn’t be sitting in a coffeeshop with a telepath.”

“Oh!” Chloe brightened, sitting up straighter in her seat, “You want advice? Why didn’t you just say so?!”

“Well, apparently there’s no need to ask,” he said, but he didn’t really sound annoyed with Chloe. He actually sounded a little relieved. Sam could sympathize, sometimes it was easier to have Chloe just _know_ what was wrong, rather than having to actually figure out how to _talk_ about things like she did with Joan or Mark.

“I don’t know how much help I’ll be,” Sam said, “I’m not exactly an expert on the ins and outs of relationship drama.” _Although, I also have a boyfriend who was kidnapped by Damien for a while._

“That’s a good point, Sam!” Chloe chirped, “You have a unique perspective on the Damien kidnapping part of things!”

Caleb made a miserable face, “Why didn’t I ever realize that?” he asked himself out loud.

“Why-why don’t you tell us what’s worrying you?” Sam suggested, “Out loud. I know that might get a little redundant for Chloe but I definitely won’t be any good to you if I only get the snippets she decides to say out loud.”

“Sorry,” Chloe said, with an apologetic smile, “Shutting up now. The floor is yours, Caleb.”

“Great,” Caleb said dryly, “Thanks. There’s not, like, that much to fucking say. Adam has been super weird and distant since he got back home, and I’m like pretty fucking sure he’s gonna break up with me and I just don’t know why he hasn’t done it yet.”

Sam clicked her tongue sympathetically, “Oh, Caleb, that’s gotta be really hard. I’m sorry.”

“He’s over-simplifying,” Chloe contributed, “What really has him so conflicted is that even though Adam’s actions have pushed him away, he can feel in Adam’s emotions that he’s really a mess right now. And—”

“And that I think he still loves me, yeah.” Caleb said, seemingly reluctant to let Chloe speak that bit for him.

“Oh. Well, that’s…” Sam bit her lip, “That’s good, right?” To be honest, she was a little jealous of Caleb’s empathy in circumstances like this. Mark hadn’t exactly been behaving normally lately, and she wished she knew what his true feelings were.

“I mean, I guess!” Caleb said, throwing up his hands, “Only, like, when I sorta broke up with him a few months ago, I was kinda the same way, right? Like I was a mess in my own head and I still loved him, but I still fucking dumped him and made us both super miserable!” he pushed his light brown hair back from his face impatiently, “And, like, I have no right to act like he _shouldn’t_ do that, not when he forgave me for doing the same thing with, like, way less fucking reason! But it’s driving me fucking crazy, waiting for the other shoe to drop or whatever! And like, I’m glad, I guess, that we’re still together but in a way, we might as well not be because it’s not like we really hang out, and he doesn’t open up to me about the fact that he’s, like, _super_ sad and angry and overwhelmed, and we don’t—” he blushed slightly, changed course as he stammered out, “N-not that you like have to kiss or fool around or whatever to be a couple, and, and like, if he doesn’t want to, I get that, of course, I’d get that, but, like, it’s not like we even talk enough to even have the conversation about the fact that we don’t kiss anymore, so like— _ugh!”_ he cut himself off with a groan, dropping his head into his hands.

Sam and Chloe exchanged sympathetic looks, and Sam was grateful for the fact that Chloe could hear her thinking, _‘I have no idea what to tell him_.’

“Have you tried initiating a conversation with Adam about your concerns?” Chloe asked, in a passable imitation of Joan’s calming professional demeanor.

Caleb groaned again and answered without lifting his head, “ _Of course_ , I have, Chloe. Can’t you see my fucking thoughts?”

“Yeah,” she said, “And I don’t really see you trying to have the conversation any time where you two were actually alone together.”

“Because we haven’t _been_ alone together!” Caleb snapped out testily, “Hard to squeeze a post-traumatic DTR with your freak boyfriend into a ten-minute conversation!”

“DTR?” Sam asked.

“Define-the-Relationship.” Caleb and Chloe said in unison, reminding Sam just how much she didn’t quite fit in with them.

“Of course, you do, Sam,” Chloe said, reaching over and giving her arm a squeeze, “You’re our friend.”

“You are,” Caleb agreed. Sam’s eyes widened, “I dunno why, but you’re feeling all insecure and anxious. I mean, that’s kinda normal for you, but like… more insecure.”

“Oh, um…” Sam said.

“Anyway, I have no fucking idea what to do,” Caleb said, and Sam was grateful to have the attention shifted off of her so quickly, though it did occur to her that both of her conversation partners must realize that she’d feel that way, “I really don’t want him to break up with me…” he added, some of the frustration falling away from his voice to reveal a vulnerable doubt that was very familiar to Sam. She didn’t need to be an empath or telepath to recognize that.

“I know Adam’s been through a lot recently,” Sam said, sympathetically, “But it still doesn’t give him the right to shut you out or string you along,” Chloe nodded her agreement, “Have you only been seeing each other at school?”

“Yeah, pretty much,” Caleb confirmed, “We hung out at his house like once, but it was so fucking awkward with his parents watching us like hawks, as if I was gonna go into some like, Atypical rage and kidnap him or something,” Caleb hunched over his mug of herbal tea, grumbling, “I would _never_ hurt him.”

“Is there any way you could get him alone away from his parents?” Chloe asked, immediately adding, “Oh! That’s a good idea, give him a ride to school!”

“Yeah, great,” Caleb said sullenly, “That way he can dump me in the comfort of my own car.”

“It’s your dad’s car.” Chloe pointed out.

“Not the point, Chloe,” Caleb said and took a long sip of his tea. When he set the mug down, he asked directly, “So, you really don’t think ‘glitch art’ is just a gimmick?” And the relationship advice portion of the conversation was over as swiftly as it had begun.

  
  
  


**~Damien~**

“So, I’m going on a field trip, eh?” Damien asked, as the guard guided him down the nondescript hallway towards an elevator door. The man said nothing in response but nudged Damien into the elevator once it was open. A thrill of primal fear went down his spine, “I’m, I’m already in Tier 5, right? There’s no _sub_ -sub-basement that’s more fucked up then this?”

The man spared him a pitying glance, but the only answer he offered Damien was the sight of his finger jabbing the button for the first floor. For once in Damien’s life, he held his tongue. Maybe… maybe…? He hardly dared to hope.

He wasn’t sure how many days he’d been at The AM. He was pretty sure it was about a week, but it was kind of hard to keep track of the days where there weren’t any goddamn windows. He’d seen Wadsworth in six different nearly-identical suits, but he didn’t know if that was a reliable yardstick. She was definitely enough of a psychopath to change her clothes just to fuck with his head. 

He didn’t manage to swallow his groan when the elevator door opened and revealed Wadsworth (in suit number seven) waiting for him, “Ah, Robert,” she said, with that fake fucking Norman Bates smile of hers, “Well met. You can come with me.”

He entertained the thought of pushing his want into the head of The AM guard beside him, what a thrill it would be to see the way that big meaty fist would crush Wadsworth’s head against the shiny floor. But he didn’t. Honestly, after the last few days of ‘practical trials’ he had no stomach for blood and very little desire to use his ability on anyone. Wadsworth smiled wider as if she could read his mind and curled a finger to beckon him. He obeyed, as if she was the one with fucking mind control on her side.

“Walk with me, Robert.” she said, as if he had any other goddamn option.

“What is this?” he asked as they strode down a hallway lined with windows. He pretended not to be blissfully relieved to see the sky again, “Need me to get my exercise so my muscles don’t atrophy or something?”

“Invested as I am in the matter of your muscle retention,” Wadsworth said, “That’s not what this is, no.” She waited a minute for him to press her further and when he did not humor her by following the script, she sighed, “You’re being released.” she said, with a bitter tinge of disappointment to the words.

“What fun, more mind games.” he muttered.

“I’m afraid not, Robert.” she said, turning a corner and leading them into something that looked unmistakably like a lobby. Complete with a reception desk, and _doors._ Real, proper doors without locks. Doors that opened onto a parking lot and, presumably, the rest of the fucking free world.

“I don’t understand,” Damien said, with a shake of his head, “I thought we had ‘so much to learn from each other’ and all that bullcrap. I thought you were going to keep guiding me through _Dante’s_ fucking _Inferno_ for messing with your family.”

“Yes,” Wadsworth admitted wistfully, “That was the plan,” her expression hardened as she turned to face him, “I will be frank with you, Robert. I am releasing you against my better judgment,” she added, distractedly, “I would sooner see Aaron the Moor in the dungeon than let you near my family.”

“Aaron the who?” Damien asked.

“You know _Dante’s Inferno_ but not Shakespeare?” Wadsworth’s lip curled but she shook her head to herself, “I shouldn’t be surprised.”

Damien laughed to himself, “Wow, you really _are_ his fucking aunt, aren’t you?”

Wadsworth's expression hardened into stone, “Yes,” she gritted out, “I am. And I take that very seriously.”

“Yeah, I noticed.” Damien remarked.

“I will say this once, and only once, and I urge you to take it to heart,” Wadsworth said, leaning closer into his personal space, “You are being given your freedom. If it is worth anything to you, you will leave the state immediately, and you will not come back. You will never come near my family again, or I will make absolutely certain that you regret it. Do I make myself clear?”

Damien nodded, “Crystal.” he confirmed.

“Very well,” Wadsworth said, slipping smoothly out of supervillain mode and back into the role of pleasant bureaucrat, “Let’s get you started on that discharge paperwork, then, shall we?”

_November 23, 2016_

**~Adam~**

The hot water pounding on the back of Adam’s neck offered meager comfort to the familiar weary loneliness that was trying to drag him down through the shower drain. The strains of Elliott Smith trickling from the bluetooth speaker set on the toilet tank beside his phone helped a little too, helped keep him in the bathroom rather than twisting down through the dark pipes. He’d read once that humans had a deep biological urge to seek comfort in water that was probably a holdover from the amphibious beings they had evolved from. He didn’t know if it was true, but it gave him something to think about other than what a fucking mess he was as he stared at the beige tiles.

The cuts on his stomach and thighs that he had acquired over the last couple of days all looked okay. They were a little red and angry thanks to the hot water, but they were healing alright. He wasn’t an idiot, and he wasn’t new to this. He knew how to take care with them, and always had. Apart from the one time… Well, he wouldn’t make that mistake again.

An alarm interrupted his music, alerting him that he should be out of the shower and getting dressed by now. How had that much time passed? He could have sworn he’d just gotten in the shower a couple of minutes ago... Oh, well. He shut off the water and distractedly worked another small dollop of conditioner into his hair before getting out. He dismissed the alarm and the music started playing again. He listened to the familiar song as he dried off, taking care not to rub too vigorously at any of the healing patches of skin. Once dry, he wrapped the towel around his waist — a little higher up than he normally would to cover the cut above his belly button, in case he bumped into mom in the hall or something — shut off the speaker and left with his phone, not bothering to stop the music, even if it sounded a bit compressed and tinny playing directly from his phone. After the hot water and the steam, the air in the hall made goosebumps rise on his skin and he crossed quickly to his room. He shut his door behind him only to freeze, mouth open, when he discovered he was not alone in his room.

Caleb looked _nervous_. Adam did not have to be an empath to know, the signs were all over him. He was perched on the end of Adam’s bed, one leg bouncing, fiddling with a jangly keyring and chewing on his lip. At the sound of the door shutting, his head snapped up, his dumb (hot) floppy hair whipping out of his face, “Adam!” he exclaimed in greeting, as if it was somehow a big surprise to run into Adam in his own bedroom at 6:38AM on a Wednesday morning.

Adam chuckled nervously, painfully aware that Caleb could no doubt feel that he was nervous, and scared, and happy, and a little turned on by the sight of Caleb in his bed all at once, “H-hey.” he greeted, as nonchalantly as he could.

“I mean, hey!” Caleb amended, blushing slightly at his own awkwardness, pushing his hair out of his face the way he only did when he was embarrassed. 

The scales tipped a little in favor of the happy and turned on feelings at that. Adam had been so deep in his head about Caleb, it was like it had somehow slipped his mind that he was the cutest thing that had ever existed in the history of the planet, “Hi.” Adam said, and watched Caleb’s lips curl hopefully at the ends. He wondered what it felt like, and if it had a color, the soft gooey fondness that was spreading through his chest.

“I, uh, hope it’s okay?” Caleb stammered out, smile widening, “That I’m here, I mean.”

“It’s fine.” Adam said, his back still glued to the door.

“Oh, cool.” Caleb said, his eyes drifting from Adam’s face slightly. Adam’s heart skipped a beat, feeling Caleb’s gaze move along the bare skin of his chest as if it was the touch of his hand. His arousal gathered in response and he watched transfixed as Caleb’s breath hitched at feeling the change. He couldn’t _help it_ , Caleb looked so, _so_ good in his bed, and he was looking at Adam as if there was something delicious about the sight of his scrawny body wrapped in a towel. 

“So, um, why are you…?” Adam asked distractedly.

“Oh! I, uh,” Caleb’s lips were wet and pink from the way he’d been nervously gnawing at them and Adam wondered if kissing it would soothe it or make it redder, and which outcome would be better. Caleb shifted slightly on the bed, “Thought I could give you a ride to school,” his eyes wandered to Adam’s towel and like a bucket of ice water, reality came rushing back over Adam, the reality of how the best thing he could do for the amazingly supportive and amazingly hot boy in his bed would be to push him away, the reality of the barely-scabbed-over cuts he was hiding beneath the towel and the reason he’d put them there, “Your mom said… _whoa,_ ” Caleb’s eyes widened dramatically, “Why are you freaking out right now?”

_Right_ , that amazingly supportive and amazingly hot boy was also very inconveniently able to read his emotions, and they had just pivoted sharply from affection and arousal to a bitter mix of self-loathing, preemptive heartbreak, and sheer blind panic, “I-I’m not.” Adam lied.

Caleb rolled his eyes, “Only _yeah_ , you _are_ ,” Adam shook his head, “C’mon, Adam, I can feel it. You’re like…” Caleb frowned, “Sad? Really sad, and, and embarrassed,” his frown deepened, “No, not embarrassed. You’re… you’re scared?”

_“Caleb._ ” Adam pleaded, his hands twisting in the towel and ensuring he did not lose that one small shred of modesty, of dignity. He was embarrassed now, more than embarrassed, humiliated. Mortified. Terrified.

“Adam,” Caleb’s voice was deep and shaken as Adam dragged him along down his spiral, “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” Adam unconvincingly denied.

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Caleb said, his words slightly clipped, softening as he asked, “You… are you scared _of me_?”

“No!” Adam said, a sharp bolt of surprise going through him. How could he ever be scared of Caleb? He was scared of hurting Caleb, of failing Caleb, of dragging Caleb down. Never _of_ him, “No, it’s not that.”

“Tell me what it is, then. Please,” Caleb implored. Adam could only shake his head and clutch his towel tighter, “Adam… you’re freezing me out. Do you…” Caleb took a deep breath, but Adam didn’t see it, only heard it. He must have closed his eyes, “Do-do you not want to be boyfriends anymore?”

“No!” Adam dissented, and _fuck,_ why was he denying it? Sure, it was _true_ , he _wanted_ to be boyfriends but Caleb was giving him an out and he was just selfishly tossing it aside! “No, I no. Caleb,” he groped for words that might move him back in the breakup direction that he _so_ did not want to go, “It’s not you.” _It’s me._

“...is it about Damien?”

That question should not have surprised him as much as it did, and it definitely should not have surprised him that it hurt. Was it really that obvious that his head was broken? Yeah, probably, given the way he was freaking out about simply being alone with his boyfriend, “No,” he said, but at Caleb’s scoff knew he could feel it was untrue, “Okay, yeah, it… kinda. But,” he thought of his talk with Annabelle, his talks with his parents, the thinly-veiled implications as they asked _‘did he make you do things?’_ , “Not, not in the way you think.”

Because _of course_ , Damien had made him do things. That was his _whole, entire thing_ . But it was like because he was a kid or maybe because he was gay everyone assumed it must have included the ultimate taboo of sex-type-things. And Adam wasn’t sure he could put into words why the hell that offended him so much, but it did. Wasn’t it enough that he’d had his mind and his agency violated, why did everyone need him to have had his body violated to _understand_?

Caleb scoffed again, “Oh, you know what I’m thinking? Has Chloe taught you how to read my mind?” Caleb must have felt how that stung, too. If it did, it didn’t slow him down or keep him from adding sullenly, “Is _that_ what’s kept you too fucking busy to _talk to me?”_

“What the hell, Caleb!” Adam bristled defensively, “I talk to you!”

“Not really!” Caleb said, eliciting a wave of guilt that Adam wished Caleb couldn’t feel, “Not anymore.”

“Caleb, I,” in his determination to look anywhere but at Caleb, Adam’s eyes noticed the time on his alarm clock, “Shit, I really need to get ready for school. Can we _please_ do this later?”

“Just get dressed,” Caleb challenged gently, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen—” he actually flinched back from the spike of Adam’s emotional response to that, the violent discomfort in his own vulnerability, his desperation to hide the cuts on his skin, “ _W-whoa,_ sorry, _sorry!_ I… that just made you…” Caleb averted his eyes and got to his feet, “I’m sorry, I-I made you like seriously fucking _wildly_ uncomfortable, so I-I’m just gonna wait… in the hall? I’m so sorry, Adam, really, you can chill, please, I’m… I’m leaving you alone.” Adam stepped aside so Caleb could leave the room, his heart sinking down, down, to the bottom of his stomach with every apologetic word Caleb spewed.

Fuck. Well, that went _great._

Adam dressed quickly, barely paying attention as he pulled on the same jeans he’d worn the day before and a long-sleeved t-shirt. His socks didn’t match, but what did it matter? His inability to wrangle his feelings had Caleb exiled and probably pretty seriously beating himself up. _This_ was why he had to let him go. His feelings, the chaotic little fucks that they were, were _hurting_ Caleb and he couldn’t let that happen. He kicked himself for totally fumbling what could have been an okay opportunity for a clean break. Now that he’d (honestly) denied wanting to break up, it was going to make it that much harder to find a not-agonizing way to actually get it over with.

When Adam opened the door, Caleb was pacing in the hall, stilling immediately and looking at him without meeting his eyes, “You ready to head out?” he asked in a forced genial tone.

“Y-yeah,” Adam said, swallowing his frustration with himself and trying to be calm for Caleb’s sake, “I just have to grab my backpack, it’s by the door.”

“Cool.” Caleb said, hurrying down the stairs. Adam took a deep breath and followed.

Caleb’s dad’s car was parked at the curb in front of Adam’s house and they cut across the browned grass, Caleb’s long legs easily outpacing Adam. He hopped in the driver’s seat and as Adam reached the car, the passenger side door opened. Caleb didn’t even have to lean over to reach. _Stupid, hot, freakishly-huge boyfriend,_ “Th-thanks.” Adam said as he climbed in, setting his backpack in his lap as he secured his seatbelt. Caleb nodded mutely in response.

They didn’t say another word. It wasn’t one of the companionable silences they’d often shared while working on homework, or cuddling, or simply hanging out. The silence was tense and loaded, and crammed full with all of the feelings that Adam was trying in vain to squash. Guilt, embarrassment, trepidation… a yearning that kept stubbornly resurfacing. Poor Caleb must have no fucking idea what to make of it.

Adam was actually grateful that they got to school late. It gave them a reasonable excuse to part ways once they got inside the entrance, rushing off in different directions to their homerooms. Adam hoped that Caleb couldn’t feel the way that Adam’s yearning tried and tried to pull him back.

**~Mark~**

It was fucking cold. Sam had suggested he take a jacket, but Mark had brushed it off. He’d never minded the cold, had always spouted bullshit about it being invigorating. Well, guess that was just another thing to add the list of stuff he didn’t know about himself, because it was cold as fuck, and he was not finding it invigorating or bracing or anything like that.

It was good to have a camera back in his hands, even if his fingers were numb. Holding a camera felt right, though, made it feel like maybe he had hands for a reason. Thank god he hadn’t been wrong about that. He strolled through the park around the corner from Sam’s place, pretending that every gust of wind wasn’t sailing right through his shirt and chilling him to the bone. 

Honestly, it was a privilege to be cold. Maybe he’d left the jacket at home just for a chance to feel this, even though it sucked. Prisoners didn’t get to go for unchaperoned walks under the steely November sky, asserting their god-given right to freeze their nuts off, “Inalienable right to cold nuts...” he muttered out loud.

“Sorry, what?” Mark looked up. A woman about his own age who had been jogging by had stopped and taken a tiny headphone from her ear and was looking at him, baffled.

“What?” Mark asked.

“You said something to me, didn’t you?” the woman said, arching a brow.

“Uhh, no?” Mark smiled at her, and watched as the look of confusion on her face shifted subtly to a look of suspicion and discomfort.

“Okay, um, bye!” the woman said with a polite smile and sprinted away.

Mark groaned. Now, he wasn’t about to claim that his smile had melted the heart of every person he’d aimed it at back before The AM, but it sure as fuck had never had that affect on anyone until recently. He had done it again, talked to himself in public and freaked someone out. He wasn’t even sure which of his thoughts had been verbalized, but judging by the way that woman had looked at him, it had been something decidedly sketchy.

Whatever. People had always been harder than art. He would just focus on taking some pictures, try to get into the zone. Maybe he would get really into the zone and he could spend a few blissful minutes away from his own brain. His eye was caught by some wrought iron fencing up ahead and he hurried over. He did manage to slip into the flow a bit, following his gut as it led him to view the fence from several different angles, sometimes chasing the elusive silvery reflection of the cloudy sky, sometimes seeking the stark contrast of the black parallel lines against the light of the dilute sun. He was trying to get a shot that showed the layered texture of the fallen leaves that covered the ground beyond the fence when a pair of worn black converse walked right into his shot, “Hey,” he said, without risking losing the angle he’d just perfected, “Would you mind going around? Sorry, you’re just in my shot.”

“Finally got your camera, I see.” he nearly dropped it at the unmistakable voice.

“Damien?” he asked redundantly. It was pointless to _ask_ , as it was obviously him, right there, in the flesh, on the other side of the fence. He looked like he’d been through hell, and he made it look good, and that was pretty standard for him. Mark speculated that there was a haunted shadow around his eyes that maybe hadn’t been there before, but he was probably just imagining it.

“Mark.” Damien acknowledged with a nod.

“You’re not at The AM?” Mark asked, lowering the camera finally so it hung from its neck strap.

Damien scowled and kicked at the dead leaves with one foot, “You don’t have to sound so disappointed...”

“I-I’m _not_ ,” Mark said, “I’m just surprised to see you,” as his initial surprise wore off, exasperation took its place, “Hey, what the hell were you thinking, by the way?”

“With what?” Damien bristled.

“With _what?_ ” Mark scoffed, “With that harebrained stunt! Kidnapping Wadsworth’s _nephew_ , are you serious?”

“I didn’t hurt him.” Damien insisted solemnly.

Mark snorted, “Okay, well, that’s bullshit, for one. Can say from experience that being kidnapped kinda hurts all on its own—”

“Oh, c’mon—” Damien threw up his hands.

“But that aside, I didn’t even mean for Adam’s sake — though we’ll come back to that one—” Mark went on, “I meant in terms of _you_ . I told you _all about her_ , because you _made me_ tell you, but all the same. You _knew_ she was a monster and yet you still tried to blackmail her? Do you have a fucking death wish?”

Damien shoved his hands in his jeans pockets, “Gee whiz, Mark, if you were so worried about me, you can just come out and say it.”

“Of course, I was worried about you!” Mark spat.

“You were?” Damien asked, walking a few paces closer to the fence so that they were only separated by a couple of feet. Mark was thrown off-balance by the blatant hope in his voice, the optimistic tremble he was beginning to be able to feel in Damien’s consciousness.

“I mean, yeah,” he backtracked, “I’d be worried about anyone who gets on that viper’s bad side.”

Damien shook his head, eyes searching Mark’s face, “No,” he said, “Were you worried about _me_?”

Mark could feel Damien’s ability compel him to tell the truth, “Yes,” he admitted, before he shoved Damien’s will away with his own, “Fucking stop that.” he said.

“Right, sorry,” Damien said, his mind withdrawing.

Mark blinked at him, “Sorry?”

“What, do I fucking have something on my face?” Damien made a show of rubbing his cheek with one hand, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Did I… did I just use your ability by accident?” Mark questioned.

“What? I don’t think so.” Damien frowned. 

Mark shook his head, “It’s just… unprompted apologizing isn’t exactly your thing, Damien.”

“Well, turns out I am capable of making mistakes,” Damien said bitterly, “Shoot yourself up with some kind of Atypical wonder-drug only to wake up strapped down in Tier 5 and even I’m gonna examine my choices a bit.”

Mark’s brow furrowed as he thought over Damien’s statement from the beginning, “You… shot yourself up with what?”

“Well, it was _supposed_ to be Wadsworth’s fancy Atypical immunity serum,” Damien shrugged broadly, “Pretty sure it was just a fucking tranquilizer.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Mark took a step closer to the fence, “That woman gave you a syringe of something _after you kidnapped her nephew_ and you just… tried it?” Damien shrugged again and Mark barked a mirthless laugh, “You’re lucky it wasn’t fucking potassium chloride!”

“Yeah, well, maybe,” Damien said, “The Tier 5 alternative wasn’t all sunshine and daisies.”

“What the hell would you want with a Serum anyway?” Mark asked, “Last time something — _I,_ when I — fucked with your ability you weren’t exactly happy about it.” Damien’s eyes slid away from Mark’s face, his mouth twisting with something that Mark thought might be embarrassment. When he didn’t speak up, Mark prompted, “Come on, Damien, whatever stupid scheme you had, you might as well just tell me.” Damien looked at him hard for a moment and Mark could feel his want, but it took a second for him to recognize what exactly it was, “Damien,” he said gently, “I can’t understand unless you explain.”

“Okay, fine, _fine_ ,” Damien threw up his hands, “I thought it would help!”

“Help with _what?_ ”

Damien waved a hand vaguely between the two of them, “With _this_!”

“This?” Mark repeated before the lightbulb went off in his head, “Oh, with _us_?”

Damien grimaced slightly but confirmed, “Yes, fuck, yes, Mark, with _us_ , okay?” Mark wished that Damien would just stop beating around the bush and just say what he meant, “I mean, our abilities get in the way, they just complicate this and screw us over. If neither of us could do _my thing_ ,” the uncomfortable lines around Damien’s mouth as he said that clued Mark in that Damien’s uncharacteristic straightforwardness was a result of his unknowingly drawing upon Damien’s ability, “It would fix things, we could just be… normal.”

“Normal,” Mark repeated. Damien nodded. Mark frowned, it was a nice thought, sure, but there was so much wrong with it. So much Damien just didn’t fucking grasp about people and he was surprised by the force of the anger that rose in him, “Damien, this thing between us could never be fucking normal, you know that, right?” he challenged.

Damien shrugged it off defensively, “That’s not the point, you know what I mean—”

“I do, Damien, I do fucking know what you mean,” Mark seethed, “You mean you want an easy fix. Just _poof_ , wipe away our abilities — your ability, mainly — and then everything could be forgiven, could be easy?” Damien nodded tentatively, “That’s not how this works at all. We are what we are, if we were ever going to make it work, it would have to be as the whole people we are, not by scooping out the difficult bits.”

Mark felt the twinkle of hope in Damien and immediately regretted his wording, “You think we could ‘make this work’?”

“And did you ever stop to think that maybe I wouldn’t _want_ to get rid of my ability, that maybe that’s not a choice you get to make for me?” Mark fumed, “Sometimes I really hate it, sure, but I’ve had enough of other people poking around inside my goddamn head—”

“I get that, Mark, I—”

“And do you really think I would want _anything_ she made? I,” Mark groaned in frustration, “Do you even have any idea how she _made_ it?” from the look on Damien’s face, Mark could tell he did not, “From _me_ , Damien, she made it from _me_ , with fucking genetic material she _took from me_ while I was her _prisoner!_ ”

Mark could see and feel the devastation in Damien’s mind, “Mark, I swear, I didn’t know—”

“It’s really beside the point.” Mark shrugged one shoulder.

“It’s not,” Damien said, a haunted look on his face, “It’s horrible, The AM, Tier 5…”

Mark couldn’t help the way he softened towards Damien in sympathy at that, “How are you out?” Damien’s shoulders hunched up in an infinitesimal show of hurt, “I-I’m happy you are, but somehow I doubt Wadsworth just had a change of heart about making you her new chewtoy.”

Damien’s lips curled in a grim smile, “If you want my best guess,” he said, “I’d wager little Adam probably had some choice words for Auntie Annabelle.”

“Sounds like him,” Mark couldn’t help but agree before hardening towards Damien again, “Speaking of which, let’s get back to that now. What the fuck _were you thinking_? Kidnapping an innocent fucking kid?”

“Okay, so it wasn’t my finest moment—”

“Not your finest moment?” Mark scoffed, “Damien, you used a _child_ as a _bargaining chip_!”

“Jesus, I wish everyone would stop acting like I _tortured_ him or _diddled_ him or something!” Damien threw his hands up, “The only harm I did was not feeding him two cups of veggies a day!”

Mark scowled at Damien’s continuing inability to understand even the first thing about mental health or interpersonal relationships, “Maybe you _think_ you didn’t hurt him, but if Caleb is to be believed he hasn’t smiled once since he came home.” 

Damien rolled his eyes, “Oh, he probably just misses me—” 

“It’s _really_ not a fucking joke, Damien!” Mark interrupted, “This smart, sweet kid is a goddamn _mess_ because you made him into a fucking pawn, and—” 

“...Do you?” Damien’s voice was so soft, Mark barely heard it beyond his own ranting.

“Do I _what_ , Damien?” 

It seemed to take a significant force of will for Damien to drag his eyes up to Mark’s face and meet his furious, questioning gaze. His voice remained soft as he asked again, “Do you miss me?” 

The uncharacteristic vulnerability of the words stuck like a thorn between Mark’s ribs. He swallowed hard once, twice against the odd tightness in his throat before answering vaguely, “I’m glad you’re free.” 

Damien shook his head, “That’s not what I asked.” 

Mark realized that Damien’s ability was waking up in his own head, and he could feel Damien’s hunger for an answer, a reciprocation. He swallowed again but his voice came out tight as he pointed out, “It’s not what you wanted to ask either.” 

“Mark, I’d love to stand here and get scolded all day,” Damien bristled, “But I gotta hit the road A-S-A-P.”

“You’re leaving?” Mark couldn’t help the ache that sprang up in his chest, and he hoped Damien couldn’t feel it. 

“Yep,” he confirmed, “Pretty much exiled from the state unless I’d rather resume chewtoy duties at The AM.” His words were drawled casually, but the want writhed restlessly in his head, longing to reach towards Mark.

“Just get on with it, Damien,” he said, nearly breathless, “I can feel the want.” 

Damien balked, “I’m _not_ using my ability!”

“I know,” Mark explained patiently, “And I appreciate it. But as you know, part of your ability is feeling what people want. And with you right on the other side of this fence,” Mark lifted his hand to the fence, wrapping his fingers loosely over one of the curls in the scrollwork, “I can feel it.” he finished quietly.

Damien just looked at him for a moment, his eyes searching Mark’s face, his mind just barely brushing the edges of Mark’s thoughts. And then he lifted his hand, too, covering Mark’s fingers with his own, “Mark, come with me?” 

Mark looked Damien in the eye, and answered simply, sadly, “No.” 

“But you _want to!_ ” Damien complained. Mark opened his mouth to contradict him, but Damien’s fingers closed around his own and squeezed and he went on, “No, Mark, don’t deny it. Don’t bother. Just like you can feel what I want, I can feel what you want, Mark.”

“I can’t, Damien.” Mark said. 

“Why the hell not?” Damien fumed. 

“I belong here.” Mark replied slowly. 

Damien snorted, “C’mon, you don’t believe that!” 

“Well, it’s not like I belong on the road with you!” Mark argued, even as his hand betrayed him, twisting to lace his fingers with Damien’s between the bars.

“You don’t believe that either.” Damien whispered.

Damien’s eyes bore into Mark’s and he had to wonder if he would have always found Damien difficult to resist, difficult to say no to, even if they’d lived in some alternate universe where neither of them could Atypically manipulate each other. It hurt, it hurt to even think about a world where they might have been what he _knew_ they could never be in this version of the universe. Not in this life where they could both feel the mutual wish that they held like their desperately linked hands, despite this obnoxiously symbolic fence that separated them, “What do you want from me, Damien?” Mark demanded, “You want me to choose you over everything else? Over Sam, and Joanie, and my own fucking self-respect? Why? Why would I do that?” 

Damien’s power wasn’t the same as empathy, but it was like Mark could feel the pain his words caused in Damien all the same. Maybe the feeling was just his own? Damien argued futilely, “Mark, we understand each other—” 

“No!” Mark interrupted, because wasn’t the root of so many of their fucking problems? “No, you’re _wrong_ if you think I understand you! I _don’t_ . Sure, I’ve used your ability, but, but as a person?” It took everything in him, but he tore his hand from Damien’s, “I might… Okay, I _do_ care about you — despite my better fucking judgment — but I don’t understand you, not at all. I can’t understand how you possibly could have justified the things you’ve done! Forcing my sister to tell you things, kidnapping me, threatening Sam, kidnapping Adam—”

“Mark, it wasn't supposed to hurt anyone—” Damien attempted.

"But it _did_ ," Mark countered furiously, "Intent doesn't just erase the damage you actually _do._ "

"I know, I get that," Damien said impatiently, although Mark seriously doubted that he really grasped it deep down, "But you have to understand, for me, with this ability, there isn't much of a _difference_ between intent and action."

Mark could feel how sincerely Damien believed that to be true, but he couldn't agree, "Damien, this isn't about your ability."

“Then, pray tell, Mark, what is it about?” Damien asked.

“How you use it!” Mark was nearly shouting and forced himself to lower his voice, “Your choices, _that’s_ the problem! The excuses you make, the way you think you can just erase and start over, it's— _That’s_ why I can’t trust you, _that’s_ why I can’t go with you!”

“I know I'm a fuck-up, okay?” Damien agreed unconvincingly, “I know and even without the fucking serum, I, I’ll change!” Mark scoffed, “If you only gave me a chance, you’d see, I’ll make different choices—”

“God, you are so full of shit.” Mark muttered, “Give you a chance? You’ve had chance after chance and every time you have been selfish and difficult and you have _hurt people_. People I care about, me—”

“I never meant to hurt you—” Damien insisted hotly.

“But you _did_ !” Mark spat. They were both breathing heavily and for a moment they just glared at each other through the fence, before Mark spoke up again, more calmly, “It took too many mistakes, but maybe, maybe you’re being honest. Maybe you finally are starting to get the memo that you shouldn’t hurt and use people, and shit, Damien, I honestly hope you _do_ change. I hope you can be better and do better and maybe even be happy,” he sucked in a deep breath before forcing out the words, “But it won’t be with me.” 

“Mark…” Damien said, and his eyes were shining, maybe with tears, and Mark had to look away. He looked at the top of his camera, considering the shape of the film advance lever. And then he felt it, felt the push of Damien’s mind, the nudge at his own temptation to run away to fan it into a full-blown desire.

He shoved it away hard, hard enough that when he glared back at Damien’s face he was wincing with discomfort, “No!” Mark hissed, “Don’t, _ugh_ , Damien! You can’t fucking say you’re going to change and then try the same fucking thing as ever, Damien! You…” he pulled in another deep breath, “You should go.”

“Mark—”

“Damien, I’m sorry but I just can’t. I can’t keep doing this with you. I’m sorry I couldn’t be what you needed, but—”

“Mark,” Damien pleaded, all desperation now, “You’re exactly what I—”

“No. I’m really not. Maybe if things, like _a lot_ of things, had been different…” Mark sighed, “But they aren’t. And even if you change, or if I change, or if we both had Wadsworth’s Serum or whatever… we’re, we’re done here, Damien.”

“So, that’s it then?” Damien asked, pained, “I’m supposed to just walk away?” 

“You will,” Mark said, wearily, “Please don’t make me _make you_ do it.” 

Damien’s eyes jumped all over Mark’s features, “I can probably never come back,” he said, “Wadsworth doesn’t want me anywhere near her precious nephew.” 

“Yeah, well, can you really blame her on that one?” Mark asked.

“Never thought I’d hear you defend her,” Damien tutted. Mark refused to take the bait and Damien sighed. He surprised Mark by saying, “...look out for Adam, will you? He’s a… pretty good kid.”

Mark gave a disturbed laugh. Sure, normal for a kidnapper to make sure his past hostages were taking good care of each other, “That’s, like... _so many layers_ of fucked up coming from you,” Mark said, “But, yeah. He is a good kid. I’ll keep an eye out.” 

Damien nodded stiffly, “A-alright, then. Good. Well…” he turned on his heel and began walking away. 

He made it three steps before Mark called his name and he turned back, looking over his shoulder — suspicious, hopeful, contrite, bitter, slovenly, sexy, a million contradictions rolled into one glance — Mark offered him a sad smile, “Thank you. I, uh… well, good luck out there, yeah?”

“Yeah,” Damien said, the hope visibly draining from his frame, “Th-thanks, man. Good luck to you, too.” His eyes snagged on Mark’s for a brief moment more, the look saying more than either of them would ever be brave enough or stupid enough to say out loud. And then he turned and he wanted away and Mark watched him disappear. He did not turn back a second time.


	5. Confronted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is around the point in the story where I had wrapped up all the stuff I was distracted by and got back to the Caleb/Adam story I had actually set out to write.

_ November 23, 2016  _

**~Joan~**

The sound of Joan’s phone ringing pulled her attention out of her reading. She was trying to learn something more about the so-called ‘astral plane’ that some advanced Dreamwalkers described frequenting, her curiosity prompted by her recent discussions with Rose. It was frustrating but intriguing, the first-hand accounts vague and abstract and unscientific, the whole process reminding her a bit of what it was like to try and follow Chloe’s frequent, impassioned, and  _ puzzling _ tangents about art. “Hello?” she answered, her mind still mostly focused on her research.

“H-hey! Hi, Dr. Bright!” Caleb’s voice responded. It was impossible to miss the artificially cheery, flustered tone that signalled his agitation even through the phone.

“Caleb,” a glance at the clock told her that it was just shy of nine in the morning. She frowned, “Aren’t you at school right now? 

“Y-yeah,” Caleb admitted, adding, “Please don’t yell at me for ditching class.”

“I’m not going to yell at you,” Joan assured, research forgotten, “I know you wouldn’t call me during the school day unless something was seriously bothering you, though. Am I right?”

A puff of breath hit the phone microphone, though it was unclear if it was a sigh, a scoff, or a laugh. Knowing Caleb, it was likely a blend of all three, “Yeahhh,” he confirmed, “But I dunno if you can even help…”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you, and then I’ll see what I can do?” Joan prompted gently.

“I think I really— I don’t know if—” he swore in frustration at his false starts and forced out, “It’s Adam.”

“Adam?” A chill shot down Joan’s spine, worry chased close behind by terror at the idea of telling Ellie that she had bad news about her nephew a second time, “Is he alright?

“Yeah,” Caleb answered too fast, before amending with a groan, “Ugh, I— no, no, honestly. Or at least I don't think so? I don’t, I mean, he’s not alright.”

Caleb sounded about as upset as Joan had ever heard him and her worry doubled, any fear of Ellie pushed aside by her drive to take care of Caleb, “Caleb,” she asked, gentle but firm, “Did something happen?”

“Yeah, something fucking happened,” Caleb explained in a rush, “I totally freaked him out this morning when I was just trying to get him to actually like  _ talk  _ to me or whatever, but  _ of course _ I completely fucked that up the same way I always do and now he—”

“Caleb,” Joan interrupted, “You do not always… mess things up.” 

“Sure feels like I do…” Caleb snorted.

“I can understand that feeling,” Joan  _ really  _ could, “So, I take it you two had a fight?”

“No.” Joan could easily picture the shake of Caleb’s head, “Well... maybe? I don’t know, Dr. Bright, it wasn’t like a normal fight.”

“How do you mean?”

“I dunno,” Caleb bristled, “It just wasn’t, okay?”

“Why don’t you start at the beginning, hat may give me a better sense of how I might help.” Joan suggested patiently. She recognized the signs that Caleb felt cornered and on the defense. It happened with him when he was self-conscious about something he had done or felt, and if she couldn’t guide him out of that headspace, he would never be comfortable enough to say what was really bothering him. “Tell me, how have things been between you two since Adam’s return?”

“...well, that’s kinda what it was about.” Caleb said.

“The fight that wasn’t a fight?”

“Yeah.”

Joan waited a moment for Caleb to elaborate on his own before prompting, “Go on.”

Another sigh into the mic, and then he spoke up, explaining more slowly, “Okay, so… right after he got back, he was, like, not good. Obviously, I mean, I didn’t expect him to be or anything! But, like, yeah, in the car on the way home, he was pretty out of it, like relieved but also scared and sad and, like, really weirded out.”

Joan hadn’t really expected Caleb to go back to what had occurred immediately upon Adam’s return, but if it was significant to how he perceived the situation, it was good to know, “Did he tell you that or are those the feelings you felt from him at the time?”

“‘S’what I felt,” Caleb muttered, his voice gaining strength as he went on to describe, “It’s like he was just overflowing with it, but it was mostly relief and fear and, and some embarrassment.”

“That all seems like a pretty reasonable emotional reaction to what Adam experienced,” she pointed out, “Do you agree?” 

“Yeah, I guess so,” Caleb said, “I mean, yeah, I thought the same thing at first. And like, it was… nice. I mean, not that he was weirded out, but, well, he sorta let me comfort him in the car when he…” Caleb trailed off.

“When he what?”

“Well, he was, ya know... crying.”

Joan’s eyebrows lifted in surprise, “I admit I’m a little surprised that displays of emotion are still difficult for you to talk about, Caleb. I would think that your ability would—”

“My ability has nothing to do with displays of emotion, it’s, like,  _ undisplayed _ emotions for the most part,” Caleb snipped, before admitting, “But it, it’s not difficult  _ for me _ . I just… I don’t think he’d like me talking about it.”

“I see. Of course I understand if you don’t feel comfortable breaking Adam’s confidence.”

Caleb was quiet for a minute and Joan was beginning to expect him to apologize for calling and hang up when he spoke up, “No. No, I don’t think it is. Breaking his confidence. Or I don’t think he’d blame me for talking to my therapist about it, at least.”

“Okay. Then why don’t you pick up where we left off,” Joan guided, “You comforted Adam in the car?”

“Right, yeah, so, like… after he cried and stuff he asked me to give him space to process,” Caleb said, “And I totally did! I mean… to be honest I didn’t really fucking want to. I was so happy to have him home and I kinda just wanted to like, fucking grab him as tight as I can and never let him go.”

Joan grimaced privately to herself, unable to keep from seeing the similarities to her interactions with Mark since getting him back. She very much empathized with Caleb’s desire to ‘grab him and never let go’, but she also was willing to wager Adam’s reaction to that might have been as negative as Mark’s would be, “Did you maybe push him too soon?” she asked.

“No, no. I listened to him. I did what he wanted and I gave him space to process or whatever.” Caleb said, as if it was a no-brainer. If they were in the same room, he’d probably complain about feeling her pride in him.

“Good, that’s good, Caleb.” Joan said, unable to keep the pride completely out of her tone, “I know that respecting people’s privacy can’t always be easy, given your ability to know what everyone is going through internally.”

“Well, it’s not like I can read their minds or anything, but, yeah, I guess that’s true,” she could almost hear his shrug, and then his voice grew decisive as he said, “But Adam asked for it, so I did it.”

“...Until your fight this morning?”

Caleb’s words came out in a hot burst of frustration, “Yeah, because apparently when he said he needed  _ space _ , what he really meant was ‘I need to avoid you and fucking push you away for a week and lie to you about the fact that I’m obviously not fucking doing okay at all’!”

“You feel that he’s been dishonest with you?” Caleb and Adam had had their ups and downs in the past, but she didn’t think Caleb had ever accused Adam of lying before.

“I  _ know _ he has!” Caleb insisted, “I can, my empathy, I can  _ tell _ when someone’s lying, Dr. Bright! The feelings, like, don’t match the words and that’s how it’s been with Adam, like, a ton.”

“I see. And what has he been dishonest about?”

“The small fact that he is a fucking mess!” Caleb said.

Something occurred to Joan, a memory of a session from a long time before, “Hm, I seem to recall that this came up before you and Adam first became friends,” she said, “The time when you unintentionally pointed out his sadness to your classmates that were bullying him.”

Caleb scoffed, “Gee, thanks for the reminder. The first of many times that me knowing his feelings fucking sucked for him.”

“That’s not what I was implying, Caleb,” Joan said, “I merely meant to point out that there is some precedent of Adam feeling the need to conceal how much he is struggling or hurting. Would you agree?”

“Yeah, I guess so… but it hasn’t been like that between us in a long time!” Caleb resisted, “He’ll sometimes not want to hang out if he’s having a really depressed day, but he still  _ talks  _ to me. Once he knew about my ability and we sorta got used to it, he stopped trying to hide from me.”

“A traumatic experience can sometimes lead people to revert to innate survival instincts or to back-slide in regards to defense mechanisms,” Joan explained. She waited a moment for a response before prompting, “Caleb?”

“Like me,” Caleb said, “Like me with the anger, while Adam was missing.”

Joan smiled sadly, “Yes. Although the coping behavior itself is different, I do believe that was a similar event.”

“Maybe…” Caleb responded distantly.

Joan gave him another moment before asking, “Why don’t you tell me about your fight now?”

Caleb sighed, “I still don’t even know if it was really a fight. But it was bad, whatever it was. Like… really bad.” He took a deep breath and went on, “Okay, so, I got the idea when I was talking to Sam and Chloe about it yester—” he caught himself, “Never mind, that doesn’t actually matter. Like I said, Adam’s been avoiding me and, well… I got the feeling like he was maybe going to dump me, but I haven’t been able to ask him or anything because, like, he’d always run away before I could say shit about it,” Caleb’s tone gradually grew more pained as he spoke, gathering momentum, “But his feelings have been, like, all the fuck over the place but he kept insisting he was okay or just overwhelmed by work — as if I  _ don’t know _ what ‘Adam overwhelmed by work’ feels like by now!— which I could feel was a lie, plus like guilt, I guess about lying, and just so many bad feelings and… ugh, anyway,” he dragged himself back to the point, “I went over his house this morning to give him a ride to school. I thought I could at least get some alone time with him in the car and we could talk or like…” his voice grew quieter, resigned, “Ya know, if he was gonna dump me he could just get it over with, and it would be… like a little less fucking horrible if we weren’t at school.”

Joan thought she was maybe beginning to understand, “Caleb, did Adam break up with you?”

Caleb gave a bitter laugh, “No! No, he… no, he just fucking confused the  _ shit  _ out of me, Dr. Bright.”

“Tell me about it? Maybe I can make it less confusing.” Joan offered.

“I doubt it.”

“Caleb,” Joan encouraged. It had been a while since Caleb had clammed up with her and she could tell he wanted to get this out of his system.

“Okay, okay, so.” he began, “I get to his house and his mom says he’s getting ready for school and I can go up to his room and say hi or whatever. And I go up there and I realize he’s still in the shower, but whatever, I know he, like, zones out in the shower when he has music on and he’s definitely not a morning person and… whatever, that’s not really important. He’s in the shower a while. And I’m sitting in his room, and I can  _ feel _ how sad he is from across the hall, and like… I love his room, it’s so  _ him _ you know? He’s got like a  _ ton  _ of books, and a bunch of like actual CDs, and he’s still got those glow-in-the-dark stars on his ceiling from when he was little, and it’s always neat but not  _ too neat _ and it smells so good, like it smells like him and he always smells  _ so good _ —”

“Caleb.” Joan interrupted, having heard plenty about how good Caleb thought Adam smelled in the past and fairly confident it wasn’t contributing significantly to this story.

“Right, sorry,” Caleb said, “Yeah, so I’m waiting in his room and I’m trying not to freak out, basically. Because I love his room because I love  _ him _ , but I’m also, like, pretty sure that his being miserable in the shower maybe has something to do with how he’s gonna dump me, and then I’m not going to  _ get  _ to love him, and I’m not gonna  _ get  _ to just sit in his room and look at his dumb hipster band posters, and it’s so not about his room at all but somehow that makes me like… extra sad. And I guess I got so caught up in my sadness that they sort of merged and I didn’t notice his sadness move or whatever, because then he comes in and he’s  _ just wearing a towel _ and his hair is dripping and like… and his skin is, like, pink from the hot— and his  _ collarbone _ and—”

“You’re losing the thread, Caleb.” Joan interjected.

“Right, right, sorry…” Caleb trailed off for a moment and then spoke up, “Only like, I’m actually… I’m not losing the thread, Dr. Bright. ‘Cause, like…  _ agh _ !”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s embarrassing, okay?”

That alone gave Joan an idea, Caleb usually only got embarrassed with her in discussion of sex and attraction, “Take your time.”

“Okay,” Caleb said after a moment, sounding determined to get the words out no matter how embarrassing, “So. He comes in, and he’s practically naked, and he looks good because  _ of course he does _ . And he’s surprised to see me, I can feel it, but I can also see it on his face. And the thing is, he’s, like,  _ happy-surprised, _ like, 10-dollars-you-forgot-in-your-pocket surprised, like he used to be, like, just  _ happy to see me, _ ” Joan’s heart ached at the way Caleb said it, wistful as if that kind of happy had moved far out of reach since that morning, “And… well, like… he, after that initial surprise, he… I can tell he thinks I look good, too, the same way that I think he looks good, ya know?”

“I think I understand, yes.”

“And like… he’s nervous, we’re both nervous,” Caleb explained, “But we’re also both, like, happy to see each other and like…  _ into it _ . Into each other. And I’m, like… you know,  _ looking  _ at him and then suddenly, like,  _ BLAM, _ his feelings fucking  _ change _ !”

“Change? He stopped being nervous and… ‘into it’?”

“Yeah! All of a sudden he was like…  _ miserable _ . But not miserable in like the way he gets from his depression, or the way he’d felt in the shower before. He’s like…  _ freaking out _ . Kinda like Sam? Panic, I guess. And his heart is just like… it’s like it’s being crushed or stabbed or something and his… he’s, it’s almost like how I’ve felt with you when you’re angry at yourself. But it wasn’t a whirlpool of anger it was just like…”

“What feeling was it?” 

“I don’t know… I,” Caleb hesitated, “I think it was hate?”

Joan’s eyebrows rose, “That is a pretty dramatic emotional shift.”

“Yeah, it  _ really  _ was! And like, sometimes Adam gets like that. Like, mean to himself. Usually just beating himself up when he doesn’t do perfect in school, though. I’ve never felt anything like that from him,” Caleb’s tone became suddenly harsher, “And  _ then _ I shoved my foot in my mouth, because _ of course I did  _ and it just got worse, because he was, like,  _ so _ embarrassed and, like,  _ terrified _ . And I was sure he was scared of  _ me _ which like… god, I dunno what I'd even do if he was, but he said he wasn’t and I don’t  _ think _ he was lying.”

“You asked if he was afraid of you?”

“Yeah, and, and I wasn’t done saying stupid shit either because then I just came out and asked him if he wanted to be together and he insisted he did!” Caleb fumed.

“...Isn’t that the outcome you were hoping for?” Joan cocked her head.

“Yes! But his feelings were so conflicted that I couldn’t even tell if he was being honest about that or about being scared of me, and, like… I knew he wasn’t telling me  _ so much _ and I, god, I’m such an idiot but I asked if it was about Damien.” He finally confessed.

“I see. How did Adam respond to that?” Not like Mark, she hoped.

“He was like… surprised, I think, but mostly upset. Like hurt. And I think, kind of… I dunno, offended?”

“He told you that?”

Caleb groaned, “No, I felt it. Out loud, he, he tried to get me to drop it and I wouldn’t let him because I just want to  _ help,  _ and I maybe pointed out how he doesn’t talk to me and that just made him freak out more.”

“I see—” Joan began.

“I’m not done,” Caleb continued, “Adam realized he needed to like, get dressed. Ya know, because he was  _ just in a fucking towel _ this whole time, which  _ so _ was not helping and I… god, I am  _ such a fucking idiot _ , I made this… I said, like, ‘why not just get dressed in front of me, I’ve seen you naked before’ kinda thing and he just,” A half-sob broke through his words, “ _ Dr. Bright, _ it, I made him  _ so _ uncomfortable! Like, he wanted to crawl out of his  _ fucking skin _ at the thought of me seeing him naked or something, and he was just like so, so freaked out, and he wanted to hide from me so bad, worse than he’s ever wanted to. He-he used to  _ like…  _ I mean, he’s always been insecure, and there’s some nerves or whatever which, like, I don’t know  _ how  _ he could look like he does and be insecure because like he’s basically the most gorgeous person ever and like, his—”

“Caleb,” Joan pulled him back on task again.

“Ugh, right, sorry, I just… but this was not that. It wasn’t just the normal insecure thing, it was so different,” he sniffled, “He felt so awful and it was  _ my fault _ .”

“I’m sorry, Caleb, that must have been very painful for you to experience.”

“Yeah, it was. I-I always want to make him feel safe and good and like… I, Dr. Bright, I made him feel  _ so not safe _ and  _ so not good _ .” Caleb bemoaned.

“What happened next?” Joan coaxed.

“Next? I, I fucking left him alone! Obviously! He got dressed and I drove us to school and we didn’t say a fucking word in the car!”

“Good,” Joan nodded, “That’s good.”

“Good? Dr. Bright, he probably  _ hates me!” _

Joan couldn’t quite keep from laughing, “I’m sure he doesn’t hate you, Caleb,” she assured, “Do you remember the conversations we’ve had about catastrophizing?”

“...yes.” Caleb agreed sullenly.

“Let me tell you what I think. It sounds like Adam might have new boundaries around vulnerability that he’s having difficulty navigating, something which is perfectly normal after a traumatic event, especially one in which he experienced a loss of agency.”

“I  _ don't _ want him to feel like he has no agency,” Caleb responded instantly, “I miss him talking to me and stuff, but like… I miss that he  _ wanted to _ , I miss that he  _ wanted _ to be vulnerable with me.”

“I suspect he may still want that with you, Caleb,” Joan said delicately, “But you… you have not spent a lot of time around Damien. His ability, it can make knowing your own true wants difficult to recognize, even after you have left his influence.”

“Dr. Bright, I-I can’t stop thinking about what the fuck Damien could have  _ done _ to him,” Caleb admitted, “He insists that nothing  _ like that _ happened, but…”

“From my knowledge of Damien, I don’t think he would have done anything to Adam like what you’re implying.” Joan said honestly.

“You don’t?”

“No. I can’t be absolutely sure, of course, but… I don’t know if I should talk to you about this...” Joan hesitated.

“Oh, c’mon, Dr. Bright,” Caleb complained, “You can’t seriously be worried about patient confidentiality with him right now when he—”

“It’s not that, I just,” Joan didn’t know how to explain that Caleb’s age was what was giving her pause without sounding patronizing, and instead just said what she could to console him, “Sex and sexuality were seldom topics of conversation in my sessions with Damien, but he did express that he had misgivings about the way his ability distorted his partner’s capacity to consent—”

“Adam  _ would not have— _ ” Caleb began hotly.

“Which is why I don’t think anything of that sort would have happened,” Joan reiterated, “I have no reason to believe that Damien would have any cause or desire to take advantage of Adam in that way.  _ But _ I need to make sure that you understand something; Damien took advantage of Adam even if it was not via sexual exploitation, and that advantage-taking, that violation would still leave Adam with a lot of complicated feelings about his own autonomy.”

“I understand,” Caleb said, his tone shifting to one of determination, “So what can I do?”

“Well, for one, you shouldn’t expect things to go right back to the way they were.

“Yeah, well, they pretty obviously haven’t, so.” Joan suspected that Caleb shrugged.

“Start small,” Joan suggested, “Perhaps see if he’ll eat lunch with you today and stay for the entire time.”

“...like when we first became friends?” Caleb asked, “You’re saying I have to go all the way back to square one, Dr. Bright, I don’t think I can—”

“No, I don’t believe you’ll need to. But you need to show Adam that he is in control of those boundaries, that his wants and choices matter to you. You can’t help feeling his feelings, but you can choose how you act.”

“It’s just hard, Dr. Bright,” Caleb said, “I love him so much and when I can feel all that pain…”

“I know, Caleb. But your empathy could be a key tool to helping him, so long as you don’t use it as a crutch to avoid  _ actually communicating. _ ”

Caleb snorted, “ _ I’m  _ not the one who’s been avoiding communicating.”

“Pointing fingers like that won’t do either of you any good either,” Joan pointed out, “And it isn’t a very effective way to make Adam feel, as you put it, safe and good.”

Caleb seemed to mull that over for a moment, “...okay. Yeah, yeah, you’re right,” he paused again, “I... should probably get back to class.”

“Yes, you probably should.” Joan agreed.

“Thanks, Dr. Bright.” Caleb said.

“You’re welcome, Caleb,” she said, “Good luck.”

“Yeah.” the line went dead.

**~Caleb~**

The second he had hung up on Dr. Bright, Caleb had texted Adam, eager to do it before he lost his nerve. The sounds of his typing had echoed slightly in the empty football gym as he worded and re-worded the text, not wanting it to sound too needy or too rehearsed. He waited for a response, but the bell rang before it came, “Fuck.” he muttered to himself, stuffing his phone into the pocket of his joggers and rushing off to collect the books he’d left in his classroom before running away to call his therapist like the total non-loser he was.

It wasn’t until he’d seated himself in his next class, Bio, that his phone vibrated. He was relieved to see that Mrs Burns was out today and there was a bored-looking substitute at her desk instead. One of his classmates was handing out some kind of busy work bullshit and the second he was at his desk, Caleb was pulling out his phone.

Caleb: [9:22am] wanna eat lunch w me today?

Adam: [9:30am] We always have lunch together.

Caleb frowned at his phone. He hadn’t expected Adam to jump for joy at the invitation, but apparently there was still some stupid part of him that was hoping his boyfriend might not sound quite so bummed at the thought of seeing him. He responded immediately.

Caleb: [9:30am] ik but you usually ditch me to go do hw or smth

Caleb stared at his phone for a minute, waiting for his text to be marked as read. When it wasn’t, he set it aside and started in distractedly on the packet of schoolwork. Was he being too direct or too pushy? Would this freak out Adam’s fragile new boundary stuff that Dr. Bright had warned him about?

He nearly jumped out of his seat when his phone vibrated loudly against the surface of the desk. He looked around, but no one seemed to give a shit. Most of the class was chattering idly or looking at their own phones, some doing the bullshit classwork half-heartedly while some ignored it entirely.

Adam: [9:33am] You know I fell behind on schoolwork with everything that went down.

Caleb frowned at the text. It was an excuse, one that Adam had already over-used. It was past time Caleb called him out on it.

Caleb: [9:33am] u only missed like 4 days

Caleb: [9:34am] even a megadork like you cant possibly have so much work per day that ur still catching up.

Caleb’s heart skipped as it so often had at the sight of the little bubble that indicated that Adam was typing his response. It reminded him of the many nights he had lain in bed watching those same grey dots bounce, hanging on Adam’s every word, eager to drink up every thought and feeling the other boy was willing to share.

Then the dots disappeared. And then they reappeared. And then they disappeared. And then they reappeared. Caleb watched them for so long, and still Adam hadn’t hit send. What the hell was he typing, a novel?

And then the dots disappeared again.

Caleb read over their texts once more, seeking some further meaning in the last one from Adam. The fact that it was a tired excuse wasn’t the only thing that didn’t sit right about the message. ‘Everything that went down’... what a vague weird fucking way to say ‘I was kidnapped and manipulated by a superpowered freak as bait for my crazy and super-evil aunt’. And yet it was nearly as specific as Adam had been willing to get about the experience in his conversations with Caleb.

It occurred to Caleb that that probably wasn’t limited to his conversations with  _ him _ , Adam was probably being that cagey with  _ everyone _ . Maybe he was at least opening up to his therapist about it… but how could he, without bringing up the whole Atypical thing? Caleb felt a sharp pang in his heart that had nothing to do with his fears for his and Adam’s romantic future. Adam was his best friend, and somehow he had only just now realized how extremely fucking alone Adam was.

Caleb: [9:43am] just lunch together. Please?

Adam: [9:43am] Ok.

For a moment, Caleb was relieved by Adam’s instant agreement. He stared at his phone for another minute, waiting pathetically for Adam to follow it up with a ‘meathead’ and a tongue-out emoji, or better yet a green heart, but no such luck. He stowed his phone in his pocket again and turned his attention back to the work on his desk, feeling himself be buffeted slightly by the ebbing and flowing feelings of the other students around him.

The hour and a half that followed was an excruciatingly boring form of torture for Caleb. After Bio he had U.S. History, where he had to pretend to be at all engaged in talking about the Stock Market crash of 1929. He thought about texting Adam again roughly a billion times but had no fucking clue what to even say. And to make it worse, Madison Rice sat next to him in History and Noah Delaney must have cheated on her again because she was a total mess of sadness and disappointment and anger. Caleb tried,  _ he really tried _ , not to let her feelings fuck with him, but it was so much harder when someone’s feelings were so similar to his own.

By the time the bell rang to signal the end of class, Caleb was coming out of his skin. He rushed away from the classroom, eager to get away from the miserable pull of Madison’s feelings. The hallways were worse, they were always worse, especially if he was already freaked out, or didn’t have Adam by his side. And of course, he didn’t, and of course, that was the real reason he was freaking out, although the full fucking gamut of adolescent feelings tugging him in every direction and overflowing his chest wasn’t helping any.

He did not bother to stop in the cafeteria to get something to eat, he just made a beeline to his and Adam’s picnic table. It was one of the first seriously cold days of the year, so there wasn’t anybody else opting to eat outside, just one sophomore Caleb didn’t know by name sneaking a cigarette around the back of the dumpster and feeling really fucking disproportionately cool about it. Caleb sat on the table with his feet on the bench and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his letterman against the chill and waited, wishing the cacophony of his own emotions and all the fucking borrowed emotions would shut up long enough for him to remotely prepare to talk to Adam.

He’d felt cautiously optimistic following his conversation with Dr. Bright, but she just did that. She always seemed to be able to frame things as if they were going to work out, as if he was going to be able to fix things. But she had made mistakes before. Caleb’s thoughts plunged him again into the memory of how uncomfortable he had made Adam that morning, of how scared and freaked out Adam had felt  _ because of him _ . The memory seemed to obscure the possibility of any outcome other than getting broken up with by the person who had made him believe that some people really could be meant for each other.

“Jesus, Caleb, it’s way too cold to e—” At the sound of Adam’s voice and the approaching nervous-sad-hopeful blue of him, Caleb’s head turned so fast his neck cracked. Their eyes met and Adam’s voice died in his throat, and Caleb felt the spike of his worry, “What’s wrong?”

“‘M fine, don’t worry about me.” Caleb replied immediately, wanting to feel the concern recede and make room again for that tiny little bit of hope he’d felt a second before.

Instead he felt skepticism, “Nice try, but you wouldn’t be crying if you were fine.”

_ Why do people keep saying that to me?  _ Caleb took one hand from his pocket to touch his cheek, surprised to find the cold surface of his skin was wet, “I’m just…” he fumbled for an excuse, “Uh, empathy. Yeah, all these crazy teenager feels. You know it’s too much for me sometimes.” A lie of omission wasn’t really a lie, was it?

“Right, yeah,” Adam frowned, unconvinced, “I also know you’re a terrible liar, Caleb.”

“Yeah, well, so are you, Adam.” Caleb shot back, feeling the immediate guilt it caused in Adam, as well as anxiety at being called out. So much for not pointing fingers. Adam said nothing, but he also didn’t walk away. He sat down on the bench, perched right at the corner as if he wanted to be able to make a hasty escape if needed. Caleb stared at the curly top of his head, feeling the way his worry and his guilt ate away at him, along with a feeling he didn’t quite know a word for, a sort of ashamed secretive untrusting feeling. When he couldn’t stand the silence anymore, Caleb said much more gently, “You know you can tell me anything, right? I won’t judge you or get mad at you.”

“...no matter what?” Adam asked softly, not turning to look at Caleb. Instead he seemed to find his own hands immensely interesting, using his right thumbnail to chip absently at the black nail polish on his left pointer. 

It was not the fucking moment for it, but the butterflies in Caleb’s stomach gave a small flutter, as they often did at the thought of Adam’s hands. He ignored the feeling and said, “Of course. Whatever you’re going through, whatever you’re thinking about, I just want to help.”

An offended sour feeling bloomed from Adam, “No matter what  _ he did to me _ , right?” he said, “That’s what you’re really trying to say, isn’t it?”

“Well, yeah,” Caleb confirmed, “Yeah, or whatever else.”

He could tell from the slight tilt of Adam’s head that he’d rolled his eyes, his hands curling as frustration bubbled inside him, “I already  _ told you _ , he didn’t really do anything.”

“Yeah, well, all that  _ nothing _ he did has you pretty fucked up, Adam.” Caleb said, regretting it immediately when fear took the foreground of Adam’s feelings.

“I know I’m fucked up without your superpower telling me, but thank you for reminding me.” Adam said, words clipped.

“Well, you could try just  _ telling me _ how you’re doing,” Caleb suggested hotly, failing to prevent Adam’s anger from contributing to his own, “Then I wouldn’t have to rely on my superpower to know how you’re doing.”

“I’m  _ telling you _ I’m  _ fine! _ ” Adam snapped.

“Only you’re not!”

Adam groaned in frustration, as feelings seemed to crowd into his head and therefore into Caleb’s, “It’s not fair! Normal boyfriends get to keep shit to themselves sometimes if they want to, I have the right to privacy, you know!” Caleb flinched, his arguments falling silent in his head. Adam was right, of course. Everyone had the right to privacy, and here he was with his stupid fucking superpower invading Adam’s privacy when Dr. Bright had  _ just _ told him how important it was to let Adam establish boundaries. They could never be  _ normal _ boyfriends, because Caleb wasn’t normal, he never would be normal. He would never be able to keep from feeling what Adam felt, even if Adam wanted those feelings to belong only to him. He was doing it right fucking now, feeling the way Adam’s tangle of emotions whittled down to focusing on something deeply sad and resigned and confused.

“I’m sorry, Adam,” Caleb said, hating the thought that he’d made Adam so sad, “I, you know I can’t help it. But I can’t make you talk about anything, I don’t  _ want _ to make you. I just…” he sniffled, his nose runny from crying and from the cold weather, “I wish you  _ wanted _ to tell me about it.”

Guilt. “It’s not your fault, Caleb, I don’t blame you for, for feeling my feelings. I know you can’t stop it.”

“But it would be better for you if I could,” Caleb said, looking away from Adam at the thin tendril of cigarette smoke still rising from beyond the dumpster, “If I was just  _ normal. _ ”

The guilt sharpened, joined by something like embarrassment. Adam hesitated before saying softly, honestly, “No. I wouldn’t want you to be any different than you are.”

It hurt. Adam had reassured him similarly many times, but it hurt to hear it now, “Adam, please,” he said quietly, looking back at the back of Adam’s head, “Just stop pushing me away.”

There was a powerful wave of longing, but Adam seemed to suppress it, the resigned sadness swallowing it up again, “I just… I just need more space,” he lied, the words palpably at odds with the suppressed longing inside him, “You’re acting like that’s unreasonable.”

“And  _ you’re _ acting like we aren’t even boyfriends,” Caleb countered, his own words stung and bitten by the rejection he felt. Instantly he felt it double, the sharp sting of it reflected off of Adam, “I’m sorry,” he backtracked, “Adam, I—”

“No, you’re right,” Adam said wearily, shaking his head as feelings of inadequacy and regret filled him up, “I haven’t been much of a boyfriend to you since—” 

“You went through something fucked up, something  _ major,  _ needing space is—” Caleb tried.

“I just don’t think I can.” Adam’s voice cracked, and Caleb felt his heart do that crushy-stabby thing again, along with something else that had been weaving in and out of all of it. He didn’t want to pay attention to the other thing, because it felt too much like distrust and he couldn’t bear the thought of Adam not trusting him. 

“You don't think you can  _ what? _ ” He asked, dreading the answer. 

“...Be a good boyfriend.” Adam shrugged one shoulder weakly and suddenly Caleb’s heart was doing the same breaking thing.  _ Oh _ , he registered,  _ there’s a reason they call it heartbreak. _

“You are an  _ awesome  _ boyfriend.” he said, with conviction. 

Adam felt even worse upon hearing that, and shook his head, “Not really,” he said quietly, “Especially not to you.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” Caleb asked, no longer sure where the pain in his chest was coming from, him or Adam, “L-last I checked you’d never been a boyfriend to anyone else.”

Adam sighed, and finally pivoted in his seat, facing Caleb but not yet meeting his eyes, “Caleb, that’s not…” he drew a shuddering breath and for a second Caleb could tell where the boundary was in their emotions again, the distrusting feeling and the pain and confusion and shame towering over Adam like that old Japanese picture of the huge wave that was reproduced on Chloe’s phone case, “I’m  _ a mess. _ ” Adam’s voice was hoarse with unshed tears. 

“Yeah,” Caleb said as gently as he could, “Babe, I know.”

Adam shut his eyes, sucking an inhale through his nose against the surge of heartbreak and longing he felt at the word ‘babe’, “That’s exactly my point,” he said, feeling a million shades of love and want and apology as he looked at Caleb, “You feel people’s feelings, Caleb, and what I feel is… it doesn’t feel good. Not at all,” It was a vast understatement, “You should be with someone whose feelings aren't going to make you feel like shit all the time. And I…” Adam chanced eye contact for half a second before looking back down at the weathered wood of the picnic bench, “I don’t know when if  _ ever _ I’m going to feel like anything but shit.” 

If that was really it, then fuck that, Caleb couldn’t seem to restrain his frustration with it, “God, for such an intellectual or whatever you can be  _ such an idiot  _ sometimes.”

“Excuse me?” surprise cut through Adam’s hurt. 

“Do you really think I  _ care  _ if you’re sad?” Adam winced visibly, a jagged spike of pain, “ _ Fuck _ , that came out wrong!” Caleb amended quickly, “Of course I  _ care _ if you’re sad. I mean, like, do you really think I  _ mind _ ?” Adam looked away and shrugged one shoulder, “I love you, Adam,” Caleb reassured, “And I want to feel your feelings way more than I want to feel anybody else on the planet’s feelings, because even your worst feelings are  _ yours, _ and that makes them special.” 

Each word he’d said had drawn that sweet elusive longing nearer to the surface of Adam’s emotions, “Caleb…” he cautioned, but Caleb was not done.

“Plus it’s not  _ new _ ,” he pointed out, “You being depressed isn't new, and it's never chased me off before, has it?” Despite the way the butterflies and anxiety stormed in his stomach, Caleb scooted off the table so that he was seated on the bench beside Adam instead. He wanted to take Adam’s hand from where it was curled into the sleeve of his hoodie, but he didn’t want to spook him too much at once. Adam shook his head, admitting that no, his depression had never scared Caleb away before, “That’s right,” he said, “It hasn’t. It just…” he hesitated, “You know, it makes green.” 

A pained sound escaped Adam’s throat upon hearing that, like the longing feeling couldn’t quite be contained. “This isn’t just…” Adam said, “It’s not my normal run-of-the-mill depression, Caleb. I, I don’t know if it’s… if I’m even still blue.” 

“You are,” Caleb answered instantly, breathless with honesty, “It’s beautiful.”

Adam’s eyes squeezed shut against the warring emotions, “Caleb.” he pleaded.

“Adam, I know you’re feeling so much but I’m not Chloe, I can’t read your mind.” Caleb said, cautiously, “If what you really want is for me to leave you alone to, to deal with this stuff on your own, you have to tell me. And I will. But I… I really think you should let me help you with it.” Adam didn’t open his eyes or say anything, and Caleb waited in limbo. It was painful, but he reveled in it all the same, knowing that it might be the last time he got to sit so close to Adam and simply allow the waves of his lovely blue emotions to wash over him. He wished they were happier emotions — nothing felt as good as Adam’s happiness — but he felt lucky to feel it all the same. Uncertainty, self-loathing, so much longing, doubt, fear, a faint-flickering wisp of hope. There was so much, but he couldn’t help sifting for what he yearned to feel. When he couldn’t find it, he asked, barely above a whisper, “Adam… do you still love me?” 

The answer came immediately, without a millisecond delay, “Yeah, Caleb. Of course I do,” it was spoken in a resigned, almost defeated tone but accompanied incongruously by a sweet wave of love, warm and familiar, vibrant blue but sugar-sweet. It was such a relief to feel it, it surprised a small gasp out of Caleb. Adam opened his eyes, “What is it?” 

Caleb shook his head, “Nothing, I... guess I just didn’t realize how much I missed feeling that.” 

“What,  _ this? _ ” Adam asked, a hint of a smirk on his lips as he finally lifted his eyes to Caleb’s. The perfect feeling intensified, gooey and cozy and alluring all at once, mixing him into a truly breathtaking green. 

It made Caleb’s head spin and he didn’t even think about it before he was grabbing Adam’s icy hand and saying, “Hey… you wanna get out of here?” 

“What?” Adam’s eyes grew round, still glued to Caleb’s, a mischievous surprise mixing into the bevy of emotions still warring for his attention beneath the love.

“C’mon,” Caleb said, “There’s only three periods left anyway. Whaddya say, Mr. Valedictorian?” 

Adam groaned, shaking his head, “I really doubt I'll beat Caitlin to that title at this rate…” he demurred. 

“Then you can afford to be bad for once.” Caleb coaxed, standing up and tugging Adam along with him.

“W-what would you know about being bad, you meathead?” Adam teased, his voice a little watery. But he was smiling,  _ really  _ smiling, for the first time since he had come home.

“I’ll buy you sushi and kiss you afterwards without whining about how gross it is?” Caleb offered, feeling a little giddy.

“Wow, what a gentlemanly offer,” Adam said, around a real, actual wonderful laugh, and Caleb could feel the tentative shimmering of blue happiness, “But okay.” Adam agreed. Had Caleb been paying attention in Bio, maybe he could have identified whether it was adrenaline, or serotonin, or dopamine that rushed into his bloodstream, but whatever it was, it was so very green. 

**~Adam~**

Even though Adam wasn’t an empath, he thought he could kind of understand what Caleb meant when he talked about being ‘green’. As they chatted over lunch (sushi for Adam and something considerably more  _ cooked _ for Caleb), he felt better than he had in weeks, while also still feeling all of the confusion, frustration, exhaustion, and sadness. But talking to Caleb, tangling their feet together under the table, it made food taste better, it made the corny Top 40 love songs playing on the radio sound profound, it made the gordian knot of feelings seem almost untangle-able, it made everything just a little brighter and  _ better _ . 

And it was just a relief to chat and laugh with his best friend again. They talked about school. They talked about Stardew Valley, and Call of Duty, and Dark Souls. They talked about the latest mood fluctuations in their more tempestuous teachers and classmates. Caleb ranted for a while about his relief at his dad’s latest bout of writer’s block finally resolving. It felt wonderful to talk, but as they finished up their food, Adam noticed Caleb fidgeting in his seat and he didn’t need to be an empath to know that Caleb was nervous.

The waitress came over with the bill, which they split. Then she walked away with their empty plates and the cheque and an awkward silence fell. Adam was reluctant to ask what was wrong. What if asking shattered the tenuous happiness and comfort in which they’d shared their meal? He could just talk about something else, but he was having trouble knowing what the hell to say, his mind repeatedly dragging him back to the one topic he did  _ not _ want to focus on, and which they had so successfully avoided thus far. Damien.

The waitress came back, cash and card were tucked away into wallets. Fortune cookies were opened but the vague promises on their little slips of paper unfortunately did not carry the answer to any of the problems that weighed heavy and unspoken between the two boys. As they left the little hole-in-the-wall Japanese restaurant, Adam slipped his hand into Caleb’s. Caleb did not pull away, but laced their fingers together. It was nice, very nice, actually, but it didn’t distract Adam from the way Caleb was chewing his lip or avoiding his sideways glances.

When they got into Caleb’s dad’s car, Adam finally found the courage to ask, “What’s wrong?”

“What?” Caleb fumbled his seatbelt, “Nothing’s wrong!”

Adam snorted, “Wrong answer, try again.”

“Smartass.” 

“Dumbass.” Adam shot back without missing a beat. Caleb cracked a tentative smile at that, met by a gentler smile from Adam. He prompted, “C’mon, Caleb, identifying feelings is like, your whole thing. Identify what you’re feeling.” 

“Ugh, you sound just like Dr. Bright.” Caleb accused, as he turned the key in the ignition.

“I shall take that as a compliment,” Adam replied, “She is a smart lady.”

For a moment, the only sound in the car was the music playing at a low volume. Adam’s curiosity rolled around in his head as he watched Caleb pull them out of the tiny parking lot and keep on chewing his lip, his eyes trained on the road. Finally, he sighed and admitted, “Okay, god, you don’t have to be so  _ curious _ . I… I guess I feel sort of guilty.” 

“Guilty?” Adam repeated. He hadn’t been expecting that. 

“Yeah, for what I said earlier.” Caleb said, illuminating nothing. 

“You said a lot of things earlier,” Adam pressed, teasing gently, “Be specific.” Even as he said it, he felt his heart begin to beat faster, his stomach wriggle with worry. Caleb  _ had _ said a lot of things, and some of them Adam desperately hoped he hadn’t changed his mind about.

“Fuck, I didn’t mean to make you worry, sorry,” Caleb said, glancing away from the road for a second to check on Adam, “I mean the, the thing about getting sushi and kissing.”

Adam blinked, “Oh,” he said, “You don’t have to feel guilty about that. You always tease me about liking sushi, I'm not offended. Sushi’s delicious and you’re wrong, that much hasn’t changed.”

“Oh, r-right, yeah…” Caleb said, sounding decidedly unconvinced.

“Seriously, Caleb. Just ‘cause I…” Nope, he did not want to get into that, “You don’t have to walk on eggshells with me. I can still handle some good-natured teasing. I like it, you know that. It’s basically our whole love language. Got it, Meathead?” he added, just to make his point. 

Caleb smiled, “Dork,” he said, but his brow was still lined with worry, “That’s… all actually super good to hear, but it’s not actually what I meant. I meant… I-I guess I feel guilty for the other part. The kissing part,” Adam’s heart panged; he didn’t want Caleb rescinding that bit. Caleb went on, hands tightening and loosening nervously around the steering wheel, “I, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t, like, assume that that’s a thing that you want to do.” 

“What?” Adam blurted out.

“Kissing,” Caleb said, grimacing at having to explain, “I shouldn’t assume you want that. That you, like, ya know. Consent. To kiss me.”

A wave of fondness washed through Adam,  _ this boy, this sweet fucking boy!  _ “That’s very admirably woke of you and all,” he said around an irrepressible smile, “But, of course I still want to kiss you, Caleb.”

Caleb’s eyes widened and he glanced at Adam again, blushing when he caught sight of his smile, “Oh,” he said, “Okay, good.” He looked back at the road and fell silent again. Adam watched his brow gradually scrunch back into a frown.

“Caleb?”

“It-It’s just, well…” Caleb stammered out, “I’m… that’s good. I want to kiss you, too. Like, a lot. So that’s good news. And I… I mean, I can feel that you feel good about it right now, or good about me, so I know you’re not just saying what you think I want to hear. But…”

“But?” Adam prompted. 

“But, well, we haven’t,” Caleb said. Insecurity bled into his tone and the set of his shoulders as he explained haltingly, “I mean, not since you were… not since you came back, so I thought maybe you…” It dawned on Adam suddenly that he had actually gotten so wrapped up in his own shit that he had actually given Caleb cause to believe that he didn’t still desire him. Guilt and frustration with himself welled up in him. That was so, just  _ so fucking not true _ , and how could he not be furious with himself for making Caleb feel unwanted when Caleb was so, so  _ so very wanted _ ? “ _ Whoa, _ ” Caleb said, shooting a worried glance at the passenger seat again, “I’m sorry, I-I didn’t mean to upset you, I understand if you’re mad at—”

“I’m mad at  _ myself _ , Caleb, not at you.” Adam assured.

“What, why?” Caleb asked, nonplussed.

Goddammit, if they weren’t in a moving car right now, Adam would just grab Caleb and kiss him and show him how wrong he was, “Take me home,” he said, “So I—”

“Y-yeah, of course, I’m sorry I—” Caleb misunderstood.

_ “No _ , Caleb, listen to me,” Adam said and Caleb quieted, “Take me home so I can  _ show you _ how much I still want to kiss you.”

Caleb’s cheeks darkened and his lips curled into one of Adam’s favorite shapes in existence, that almost smirk of his that was somehow swaggery and earnestly bashful at the same time, “As you wish.” he replied, and Adam couldn’t help but remember the particularly enthusiastic makeout sesh they had had while watching  _ The Princess Bride _ a couple months ago. 

To their credit, they had made it about twenty minutes into the familiar film before fully losing interest in what was on the screen. Adam had commented, legs sprawled across Caleb’s lap, about the homoerotic tension underlying the duel between Inigo and Westley. Caleb had good-naturedly argued that Adam just wasn’t athletic enough to understand the camaraderie of bros-in-arms, to which Adam had countered that Caleb wasn’t well-versed enough in the world of gay subtext to pick up on it.  _ ‘I think I’m doing pretty okay picking up on gay subtext, you dork.’  _ he had said, his hand gliding not-so-accidentally from where it had rested tamely on Adam’s knee up over his thigh. 

_ ‘Getting handsy with your boyfriend isn’t subtext, you meathead,’ _ Adam had pointed out as he sat up in Caleb’s lap with as much grace as he could muster,  _ ‘It’s just text _ .’ 

Caleb had looked up into Adam’s face with such dazzled adoration, as if plain old Adam had somehow been graced with all the soft-focus romantic lighting of an ‘80s fantasy movie closeup, and a swarm of butterflies fluttered to life behind his navel. Caleb huffed a small surprised laugh,  _ ‘Does lecturing me about gay subtext really give you butterflies?’ _

Adam had straddled Caleb’s thighs, tingling with more than butterflies at the way Caleb’s green eyes widened, pupils dilating. It was as terrifying as it was exhilarating to know that Caleb knew just how much more than that it was, that he could undoubtedly feel all of the adoration and desire and nerves that had filled Adam up, threatening to overflow as nervous giggles,  _ ‘No,’  _ he’d admitted softly as Caleb had wet his lips expectantly,  _ ‘I just really like the way you look at me.’ _

Caleb had not missed a beat,  _ ‘Good,’ _ Adam could so vividly remember the touch of Caleb’s hand on the back of his neck, warm and thrilling all at once,  _ ‘’Cause I really, really like looking at you.’ _ And oh, the unfamiliar brand-new feeling of confidence that had flooded him at the praise as Caleb’s lips had pressed to his, that  _ he _ could be something worth looking at in the first place, something worth pulling closer and kissing so sweetly and thoroughly, as if the cameras would be zooming in for a closeup as the score swelled to a sappy synthesized orchestral crescendo—

“Uh, Adam?” Caleb said in a shaky voice, drawing Adam back to the present. 

Adam shifted in his seat, suddenly aware of how uncomfortably tight his jeans felt, “Yeah?”

“Could you, um,” Caleb cleared his throat, “Maybe think about something else?”

“What?” Adam peered at Caleb, noticing with a jolt of realization the flush of his cheeks, the perspiration at his temples and upper lip, “Shit!” he said, “Uh, s-sorry!”

“‘S’okay,” Caleb said at once, “I mean, uh, it’s good. I’m glad you’re… that you…” he cleared his throat again, “I just, um, need to drive.”

“Right, yeah.” Adam said, stomach churning with embarrassment.

“Don’t be embarrassed!” Caleb begged, “Please, I promise I like it, I like…  _ really _ fucking like it, Adam. It’s just distracting to like it so much while also driving a car.”

“Right, g-got it.” Adam said, and tried to think very hard about the Physics lab he was missing right about now. He had been too distracted in class the day before to remember the particulars of the practical part of the lab, so he tried to think about what findings he could possibly B-S, given that instead of going back to school this afternoon, he was heading back to his empty house to jump his boyfriend. A spike of raw arousal shot through him and in the driver’s seat, Caleb gasped and  _ why _ was it so sexy to be able to get that reaction without even touching him?

“H-how’s that thinking about other things going?” Caleb teased, the effect weakened slightly by the way his voice quavered.

“I managed to think about Physics for almost a minute.” Adam announced as if it was an impressive achievement.

“H-how is Physics going?” Caleb asked.

Adam hummed noncommittally, “It’s not nearly interesting enough to distract me from thinking about you.”

“Ad-ammm,” Caleb whined, and if that was supposed to convince Adam to  _ stop _ thinking about how sexy he was, it was a grave miscalculation. Adam shivered at the pleading note in Caleb’s voice, suddenly fully hard again, and beside him Caleb mirrored the shiver.

“Whoa,” Adam observed, “Sorry, I just…”

“I know,” Caleb said, as he turned finally onto Adam’s street, “No more saying your name ‘til the car is parked.”

Adam told himself not to look, but he glanced down. They’d figured out that Caleb didn’t always necessarily exactly mirror physiological stuff, but mirroring Adam’s feelings sometimes caused him to. It wasn’t an exact science, but it was one they had had plenty of fun experimenting with. And Adam’s was a very curious mind and so he had glanced down and of course that meant he had seen the evidence that Caleb was exactly as hard as he was inside his joggers,  _ “Fuck. _ ” he hissed all but involuntarily, with a throb of desire.

Caleb whined nonverbally in response. With a less than smooth jerk of the steering wheel, he pulled the car to the curb and put it into park with shaking hands. They were three houses down from Adam’s, “Walking’s safer.” Caleb said.

“Right, g-good thinking.” Adam agreed. They shared a heated instant of eye contact, and then they were tumbling out of the car and scrambling across sidewalk and lawn and up Adam’s vacant driveway. Adam wasn’t sure who had grabbed whose hand, but he fumbled only slightly as he unlocked the door with his left hand. Then he was dragging Caleb into the house by their linked hands. Caleb kicked the door shut behind them and Adam dropped his keys blindly, filling his free hand with a fistful of Caleb’s stupid letterman jacket, which was so much sexier than it had any right to be, and tugged him down. Caleb leaned down as Adam stretched onto his tiptoes and their lips finally crashed together.

Caleb sighed relief and need into Adam’s mouth and it was enough to make Adam forget what an absolute fucking disaster the inside of his head had been for days and days. Caleb’s hand pressed the small of his back and it was like Adam was just a normal boy composed in majority of a normal boy’s raging hormones. He felt safe and he felt desired and he felt his own lust, and that was blissfully all he felt. He pressed his tongue to the seam of Caleb’s lips and he opened to him instantly, and Adam felt an empowering rush of being in control. 

Although Caleb dwarfed him physically, his empathy made him prone to becoming overwhelmed and they had learned quickly how much better it worked for both of them if Adam took the lead on initiating the more physical side of their relationship. It wasn’t a rule, and it wasn’t something they’d ever really discussed. It had never seemed necessary, it was just natural. But this felt maybe a little different. Better, even better. Taking the reins that had slipped from his grasp under Damien’s influence, not by way of pain, but by way of  _ pleasure. _ Adam crowded Caleb back against the door and kissed him as though his life depended on it. With a passing shudder of clarity, Adam wondered if in fact his life  _ did _ depend on it.

Caleb was already moaning onto his tongue, and it was Adam’s favorite song in the world. It was nearly impossible for Caleb to do this sort of thing quietly, feeling Adam’s emotions at the same time as his own emotions and sensations was simply too much to hold in silence. When they parted, Adam’s lungs were burning slightly from breathing too little in his enthusiasm, Caleb was trembling and panting, blinking down at Adam as if he were the most fascinating artifact made of the purest gold. Being looked at that way, it was like the memory Adam had recalled in the car, of watching  _ The Princess Bride _ . It set Adam alight with confidence, glowing alongside his towering desire, all of the feeling flowing right back into Caleb, “ _ Whoa, _ ” he murmured, “I, uh, so maybe you  _ do _ still want to kiss.”

_ God _ , he was too sweet, too good. Adam loved him so much it ached, wanted him so much it threatened to blow him apart. Caleb’s breath hitched at the immensity of Adam’s feelings, “Maybe I still want to do more than kiss.” Adam flirted, and Caleb shuddered, sending a rush of empowerment through Adam again. He hadn’t felt powerful like that since… well, had he ever felt that powerful?

Yes, he realized, only once before. When he’d put Caleb’s cock in his mouth and, inexperienced as he was, watched the way he could absolutely take his boyfriend apart.

“ _ Fuck _ , Adam,” Caleb hissed, “I dunno what you’re thinking about but if you don’t stop thinking about it like  _ right now _ , I’m going to, y-ya know, like, just feeling how much it turns you on.”

“Let’s go up to my room.” Adam suggested.

“Yeah,” Caleb agreed instantly, his smile taking on that irresistible bashful quality again as he asked, “Can I carry you?”

The question actually surprised a laugh out of Adam, “Uh, I mean, yeah, sure, if you want to?”

Without further comment, Caleb scooped him up as if he weighed nothing and Adam couldn’t help the way he swooned against his shoulder at that. He could feel Caleb’s grin, “I missed that.” he confided, as he took the stairs two at a time.

“Yeah, so did I.” Adam admitted, consumed by butterflies, by the high of being pressed to Caleb’s chest, by the welcome sense of safety that he felt in Caleb’s arms. He breathed Caleb in, that ridiculously intoxicating combo of Old Spice, herbal tea, and the sweet gold honey of his skin, “I...I missed you.”

Caleb’s arms tightened around him and he hoped they would never let go, “I was always right here, Adam.” Caleb reassured, lips pressed to his hair. Adam felt a small squirm of guilt down deep in his belly. If only he hadn't pushed Caleb away…

Caleb nudged Adam's bedroom door open and deposited him carefully on the bed, “Thank you for your chivalry, sir knight.” Adam teased, hoping Caleb might not comment on the guilt and other unpleasantness trying to push in at the edges of his mind, forcing desire to take a backseat.

It worked, surprising a guffaw from Caleb, “Don't mention it,” he teased back, “I couldn't leave the king of dorks to fend for himself, could I?”

“No way could he alone have bested a flight of stairs with such valor.” Adam pulled Caleb onto the bed with him. It was a bit cramped for the two of them side by side, but any space between them just then would have been intolerable.

“Duh,” The breath of Caleb's laugh was warm on Adam's cheeks, his voice softer as he brushed a curl away from Adam’s temple, “You're better at this than me.”

“Yeah, well,” Adam said, “I can’t expect you to compete with a skill honed over sixteen years of being a friendless weirdo.” 

Caleb frowned, before saying haltingly, “You, uh, shouldn’t… should not be so unkind to yourself… good sir.”

Adam smiled fondly, but he looked at the plastic stars on the ceiling above his bed rather than meet Caleb’s eyes. It was too much, when he knew Caleb could feel the stubborn self-loathing warring with his embarrassment at being called out, how eagerly he yearned towards the sense of safety he hadn’t realized he’d pushed away in pushing Caleb away. He’d told himself that he’d done so to protect Caleb from the awfulness of his feelings, but maybe he had really just been protecting himself from the humiliation of having someone see what a fucking mess he was on the inside.

“Adam,” Adam looked back at Caleb’s face, his heartbreakingly earnest expression, “I missed you, too.”

“Caleb,” Adam’s eyes welled with traitorous tears, “I’m sorry.”

Caleb’s arms were around him again in an instant, drawing him close, “I didn’t mean to make you  _ cry _ .” he said helplessly.

Adam shook his head, face pressed to Caleb’s shoulder, “I’m an  _ idiot _ for pushing you away,” he bemoaned, “I-I should’ve known I couldn’t f-fight it.”

“Fight it?” Caleb repeated, and Adam knew without looking that his nose had wrinkled skeptically, “Fight what?”

“That you’d  _ know _ ,” Adam said thickly, saying words that were only half-articulated in his spinning thoughts, “That you’d know everything I’m feeling whether I wanted you to or not!”

Adam felt Caleb flinch around him, “You don’t want me to?”

Adam groaned, “I don’t know!” Silence fell over both of them like a heavy blanket. Caleb did not press Adam to explain further, though he must have wanted to. Adam pressed his face against Caleb and breathed his scent, trying to let the safe feeling of his proximity calm him and help him make sense of the contents of his own head. 


	6. Adored

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of this chapter is lifted from Safe House pt 2. There's emotional smut, there's hurt/comfort, there's discussion of self-harm. And fear not, there is fluff and (FINALLY) there is communication.

**~Caleb~**

Caleb absently petted Adam’s hair, feeling along as the sea of his emotions fell back to calmly ebbing and flowing, rather than splashing and crashing haphazardly. He was trying not to be hurt. His empathy was often a burden, but it had always felt like a privilege to have insight into Adam’s emotions. It stung to learn that maybe he had been unwanted there all along. He felt bad that he couldn’t just  _ stop it _ , couldn’t just leave Adam’s private feelings unseen. No wonder that distrust was still woven throughout the snarl of Adam’s feelings, why should he trust Caleb when Caleb couldn’t even respect his most basic boundaries? Even now, as Adam settled down in his arms, he could feel that there was an undercurrent of frustration and trepidation persisting within him. It surprised Caleb that when Adam actually spoke again he didn’t try to change to a more trivial topic, “It’s  _ not  _ that I don’t want you to know what I’m feeling,” he said, his voice honest and sweet and nearly washing away Caleb’s worry, “Like, I trust you with it.  _ Always _ . I just…” he sighed, and Caleb began stroking up and down his back, could feel the soothing effect of it second-hand, “Caleb,  _ I _ hardly even know what I’m feeling from one minute to the next lately. And I hate it.”

Caleb considered that, swallowed nervously before suggesting, “Couldn’t I, like, help with that?” a wrinkle of doubt from Adam, “Help you… like you said before, identify feelings? I’ve done it before.”

“I know,” Adam admitted, “I just…” Embarrassment hit Caleb hard as Adam considered the prospect.

“It’s embarrassing?” he asked.

“Well, isn’t it?” Adam demanded, the embarrassment sharpening into something serrated, defensive, that distrust inside him twisting jaggedly, “Wouldn’t  _ you _ be embarrassed? If-if things were the other way, and  _ you  _ were the one so fucked up in the head and just,  _ crazy  _ that you needed  _ me  _ to look inside you and explain your own crazy to you! That wouldn’t feel good to you, would it?”

“You’re not crazy,” Caleb reassured shakily, holding Adam’s shoulders and trying to get him to meet his eyes, “You’re just scared and it’s making you—”

“Caleb!” Adam reprimanded, eyes squeezed shut. Humiliation.

Caleb winced at the frustratingly familiar sense of finding his foot in his mouth, “ _ Sorry. _ Fuck, sorry.” He let go of Adam and pushed his hair back from his face, grumbled to himself “Way to miss the point, Caleb.” He sighed, feeling Adam’s impatience with him, “Yeah, I… I mean, it’s hard for me to imagine but... yeah, I think I probably would be pretty embarrassed if it were the other way around. I… I’m sure it doesn’t feel good to always have me poking around in your heart, in your private  _ stuff _ ,” No wonder Adam hadn’t wanted to be around him, “I really am sorry, Adam.” 

Adam sighed, the angry tones wilting into sorrow, “I don’t want you to be sorry, Caleb. I… I don’t  _ want _ to have a problem with it,” Adam’s tone and feelings grew wistful, “I was pretty okay with it, with you knowing how I felt all the time. I mean, we made it work, right? It was  _ good, _ mostly.”

Caleb smiled sadly, sharing in Adam’s longing, “It  _ was _ good,” he reiterated, “At least, I thought, I mean… it made us better, I thought. I thought, but...” Caleb’s heart hurt, thinking that maybe it had only ever been a hindrance, that if he only could have been normal…

Adam’s hand caressed his cheek gently, cupped his chin so that he’d look at him again. He did, of course. It was never easy for him to keep his eyes off of Adam for long, especially when there was such soft affection coming off of him, so welcome after the frustration and spiky defensiveness of an instant before, “Hey, it  _ was _ good,” his lips curled just barely into a sweet smile, “It did make us better. The best.”

“Do… you think it could be that way again?” Caleb asked breathlessly, “I want it to be like that again.”

The affection did not waver, but the doubt reared up again, “I want that, too, Caleb,” Adam confided, voice breaking slightly as he trailed off, “But I don’t know. I don’t know how to make  _ anything _ okay and good again, I just…”

Caleb recognized the muddle of doubt and distress in Adam. It wasn’t too different from how he’d felt in the first few months of his ability, when there had been just so many feelings that he couldn’t figure out which ones were his, which way was up, what normal even looked like anymore. It was different, but it maybe kind of wasn’t, “Maybe…” he said, half to himself, as an idea took shape in his head.

“Maybe?” Adam repeated, and Caleb was pleased to feel the familiar press of Adam’s classic curiosity.

“Maybe,” Caleb stammered out, finding his meaning as he spoke it, “Instead of me just… feeling your stuff and identifying it, or, or fucking  _ trying to _ ... I mean, maybe if we talked about…  _ why _ you’re feeling stuff, I mean, that could help. Would help me help you. Right?” Adam was withdrawing a little, was skeptical, was hesitant, “Like… context.” Caleb added.

“Context.” Adam repeated, and there was a glimmer of fondness and humor through the distress as he smiled at Caleb, “You’ve been paying attention in English, meathead.”

Caleb snorted, “Oh, shut up, you’re the one who’s always saying how smart I am!”

“You  _ are _ super smart.” Adam agreed sincerely.

“Well, then don’t act so surprised every time I use a word above a fifth grade reading level,” Caleb teased, regretting it immediately when Adam felt a stab of worry, “Stop!” Caleb backpedaled, “Don’t feel bad, you’re fine. I’m only teasing you, dork.”

Some of the concern receded, but Adam still repeated emphatically, “You’re  _ really _ smart, Caleb.”

“Cool, thanks,” Caleb brushed off, “Now stop changing the subject.”

“Right,” Adam said, trepidation and anxiety and distrust coursing through him and into Caleb, “Context.”

“If you still need space, that’s…” Adam’s feelings shifted into the panic that had been bubbling beneath the surface ever since he came back home, “Adam,” Caleb wrapped an arm around Adam’s waist, “It’s alright if you’re not ready.”

Adam shook his head, eyes squeezed shut against panic, uncertainty, spots of curiosity, and fondness, and fear. So many things that, without the context he’d asked for, Caleb couldn’t hope to untangle it and make it make any sense. Adam’s voice was weary as he admitted, “I just don’t want to think about him.”

Caleb’s gut flipped uneasily, realizing the muddle of conflicting emotions in Adam’s chest were about exactly that, “...But you are, aren’t you?” Adam pressed his forehead to Caleb’s collarbone, “I mean, we haven’t talked about it but that hasn’t kept you from thinking about... Damien, has it?”

Adam heaved a sigh, hot and damp through Caleb’s t-shirt, “No.”

Fuck, there was so much shame and reluctance, Caleb feared suddenly that he was pushing too hard, “Adam, I’m not going to force you to talk about anything. You decide how fast we go, okay, but—”

“Yeah, yeah, but I need to talk about it, I got it, Caleb,” Adam interrupted, “You can dial down the Dr. Bright act.”

Caleb huffed, “No, I… I don’t think I should. Dr. Bright’s good at her job and she helped me. She’s better than your therapist, obviously.”

A cringe of embarrassment, “Well, in his defense I haven’t been  _ talking  _ to my therapist which makes his job basically impossible.”

“Well, talk to me, then.”

“Okay,” Adam said, tense and unsure, “I… I…”

An idea came into Caleb’s head, “Don’t feel like you have to tell me everything all at once. Just... tell me three things about—”

“Why three?” Adam asked, the same curiosity Caleb had felt from him a million times at school. That was comforting somehow, that that feeling felt the same as ever.

“I dunno,” Caleb shrugged, “Three’s just a good number.” Adam shrugged in agreement, turned his head so that his cheek was pressed to Caleb’s chest, “Okay, so, tell me three things about Damien, or the time you spent together.” another ripple of panic, “They don’t have to be the big scary stuff, just anything I don’t already know. Okay?”

Adam weighed the question for a second, the panic receding, “Okay.” he agreed, but was quiet for several seconds more before saying in a surprisingly light tone, “He has a really nice apartment.”

Caleb blinked. His imagination had run wild while Adam was in Damien’s possession, imagining him bruised and battered in a windowless warehouse, shackled in a damp and cold medieval dungeon, on a bare dingy mattress in a cobwebby basement. At best, he had hoped he might be holed up in a fucking bleak roadside motel like Mark, “You were at his apartment?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Adam said, a little defensive again “Not all hostages are tied up in basements or whatever.”

“That isn’t funny.” Caleb grumbled.

“I know.” 

Adam fell silent again, sucked into the swirl of contradicting emotions. Shame, why the fuck was he so  _ ashamed _ ? “So,” Caleb prompted, “He has a nice apartment?”

Adam startled slightly, “Yeah,” he confirmed, “Yeah, like,  _ really _ nice. Like top-floor, big windows, exposed brick, one of those rain showerhead things.” It was stupid, it was involuntary, but Caleb’s teeth gritted with protective anger at the thought of Adam unguarded in Damien’s shower, “It was like something from one of your dad’s HGTV shows.”

“Huh.” Caleb said, trying to rein in his unnecessary and fucking unhelpful anger and thought about what Adam was saying, “That’s… weird. Right? He looks so shady and like… not like a rich person.”

“I don’t think he is.” Adam said with a shake of his head, talking coming a little more easily, “Or, well, I don’t think it matters if he has money. I think when he wants something he just uses his ability to trick people into giving it to him.”

“That’s fucked up.” Caleb grumbled. Wow, he was really full of fucking hot takes today, what a bright future he had as a therapist.

“Yeah, well,” Adam said, his feelings resuming their battle with themselves, “He’s kind of a fucked up guy.”

Adam lapsed into silence again and Caleb kicked himself. Dr. Bright always kept the conversation moving, nudging him expertly towards the next thing he needed to talk about. She didn’t say dumb shit out loud that would just make him feel worse and retreat into his thoughts, “Okay,” he said, trying to get the conversation back on track, “So he has a fancy apartment. What’s your second thing?”

He could feel the wiggling of Adam’s face against his chest as he chewed his cheek thoughtfully, before finally supplying, “He watches  _ a lot _ of tv.”

Okay, that didn’t illuminate much. But that wasn’t really the point, was it? The point was to get Adam more comfortable opening up or whatever, “What does he watch?” Caleb asked, not sure at all that that was the right question.

Adam shrugged, “Anything, it seems like.” he said, that out-of-place fond feeling growing and growing as he went on to explain, “A lot of corny ‘80s movies, a lot of syndicated sitcoms. Not a lot of crime stuff — too close to home, maybe? Or maybe just having consequences is too unrelatable —  _ Thank god,  _ not a lot of reality tv.” Adam chuckled, “There was one day we caught an  _ Ancient Aliens _ marathon and it was hilarious, he—” Adam’s words cut off abruptly and he flinched physically, slamming into a wall of guilt.

“Whoa, hey.” Caleb soothed, terrified that Adam would be able to tell how perturbed he was, hearing Adam talk about Damien as if they were  _ friends _ or something, “It’s okay,” he reassured, “You-you don’t have to feel bad for not hating every second that you were there.”

Adam groaned in frustration, guilt and shame and confusion smashing about inside him, with that dark distrustful thing right at the heart of it all, “I  _ did _ hate it but I  _ didn’t _ . I mean… I  _ couldn’t _ . I mean, he  _ wanted _ me to be okay with it, I think, so I was. Or maybe I’m just,” a bitter wash of self-loathing, a mirthless laugh, “ _ That _ fucked up, that he didn’t even have to manipulate me to get me to make fun of  _ Ancient Aliens _ with him.”

Caleb tried to sound as undemanding and unthreatening as possible as he prompted, “Could you tell when he was making you want stuff?”

Adam shrugged, “Yeah. I mean, some of the time. There were definitely times I knew, if it was different than what I really wanted.” Caleb desperately wanted an example and was also terrified to get any more detail. Adam didn’t provide any, just went on uncertainly, “But, maybe… I mean, I bet there were times I didn’t even notice it. Sometimes, I’d just want to go to sleep even though I wasn’t tired, or I’d want to be quiet or something, and looking back, that probably wasn’t all me…”

The guilt and shame inside Adam was like nothing Caleb had ever felt, as if somehow he was at fault for what Damien had done to him, “Either way, Adam… I don’t think you need to feel so guilty about—”

“He’s in love with Mark.” Adam blurted out.

“What?” Caleb asked, frowning down at the top of Adam’s curly head in confusion.

“My third thing,” Adam said, and Caleb realized he was desperately pivoting them away from the subject of his guilt, “Damien is totally in love with Mark.”

“Mark Bright— I mean,  _ Bryant _ , I mean… Dr. Bright’s  _ brother _ , Mark?” Caleb babbled, trying to make this new piece of information fit inside his brain.

Adam laughed, and he pulled back from Caleb enough to look up at him, “ _ Yeah, _ what the hell other Mark could I be talking about, Caleb?”

Caleb’s brow furrowed, “Damien’s  _ in love _ with him? But he, he  _ kidnapped _ him!” Adam shrugged one shoulder, “Does Mark love him back?” Caleb asked.

Adam shook his head, “I have no idea, you’re the empath, did Mark  _ feel _ in love with Damien the last time you hung out?” Caleb frowned, considering the question even though he knew Adam didn’t expect an answer. Adam’s emotions shifted, softening and squirming away from guilt towards something that was harder for Caleb to identify, “I… that’s sort of why he took me, actually.” Adam explained, not meeting Caleb’s eyes as he went on haltingly, “He wanted to make Annabelle give him this stuff she made, this like Serum or whatever, that makes people... immune to Atypicals.”

In all the worrying and fuming and wondering that Caleb had done, he hadn’t actually given much thought as to  _ what _ Damien wanted from Adam’s aunt badly enough to kidnap him over. He’d overheard Dr. Bright and the others arguing about it at the safe house, maybe, but he’d been way too fucked up at the time to give a shit, “What?” he asked.

“Yeah, I think his thought was that if he and Mark couldn’t use their powers on each other that would make it easier for them to be together.” Adam explained.

“Huh…” Caleb acknowledged. He didn’t fucking like it but for the first time since their first meeting in the park by Dr. Bright’s office, Caleb related to Damien. It was different, of course it was  _ different _ , way different… but… wouldn’t it be easier for him and Adam to be together without his power getting in the way? Hadn’t he just been thinking that anyway? If it weren’t for his stupid ability, Adam wouldn’t have pushed him away. Adam  _ never _ would have pushed him away. When Adam’s depression got bad, he would let Caleb hold him, rather than insisting on texts and skype calls instead. Caleb wouldn’t have to worry about blurting out the stuff he only knew because his empathy was always invading Adam’s privacy. They could just make out and fool around like a normal,  _ typical _ couple, without Caleb getting overwhelmed and cumming too soon and worrying about every blip in Adam’s confidence.

“Caleb?” Adam’s voice pulled Caleb out of his thoughts and he blinked, taking in the sight of Adam. One of his hands rested on Caleb’s waist while the other was tucked between them, the chipped-paint fingernails curling anxiously in the front of his own t-shirt. He was worried and he looked worried, with bags under those big dark doe-eyes and a crease between his brows, his lips scrunched to one side. He was worried about  _ Caleb _ , after everything he had been through, as if  _ Caleb _ was the one that ought to have been worried about. 

God, Caleb loved him so fucking much.

“God,” he said, “I love you so fucking much.”

A blossom of happiness bloomed in Adam’s chest and his worried expression thawed slightly into a smile, “I love you, too.” he said.

Unexpected, uninvited frustration rose in Caleb, “Stopping their abilities with some kind of magic Serum wouldn’t help anything,” he said, “Even if Mark was into Damien, it’s all too fucked up and making their powers go away wouldn’t fucking fix anything. It wouldn’t make Mark forgive him for kidnapping him, or threatening  _ Sam _ , or kidnapping you—”

“Caleb—” Adam cautioned, recognition in his eyes, concern about Caleb’s anger.

“Sorry, I’m just.” Caleb huffed, forced himself to suck in a steadying breath. He squeezed Adam a little closer, reminding himself that he was back and he was okay, “Maybe this was a stupid exercise, I think I’m more confused now than I was before.”

“Ha, well then you know how I feel,” Adam said dryly, before adding, “Which... was actually the point, so maybe it did work?”

Caleb tucked his face into the curly cloud of Adam’s hair, breathing in that wonderful smell, like oranges, and strong coffee, and his coconut conditioner, “I’m tired of being mad,” he confessed, “But it feels like I’m the only one mad at him.”

“You’re really not, Caleb,” Adam disagreed gently, “I know it can be hard for you to read other people when their feelings are the same as yours, but Damien has, like, a lot of people pissed at him,” Adam confirmed, opening up now as naturally as the petals of a flower, “ _ I’m _ mad at him. It’s just… it would be easier to hate him and be mad if he’d just been super mean to me the whole time, if I  _ had _ been tied up in a basement. And like... he  _ was  _ a dick sometimes, and he threatened me sometimes, but the fact that he just acted kind of normal a lot of the time just makes it so much more  _ confusing _ . Like, I don’t know what to think or feel about that, and that’s already bad because his ability made me not sure which stuff I actually thought and felt for myself, so it’s like I just have all these layers of not trusting my own brain.”

“Oh,” Caleb said, understanding slotting into place in Caleb’s head and flooding him with relief. That was why Adam felt so conflicted, why that uncertainty and panic lay under everything, that  _ distrust, _ “That’s what that is.”

“You can feel it?” Adam looked up at him, and Caleb could feel his surprise.

“I didn’t know what it was,” Caleb shook his head, blinking back relieved tears, “It’s like you’ve been being pulled in a million different directions, but at the center of all of it was this distrust, I-I  _ thought _ distrust  _ of me. _ ”

“Oh, Caleb, I trust you.” Adam vowed without hesitation, and Caleb could feel the warm reassuring wave of it, “Way,  _ way  _ more than I trust me these days.” Adam curled nearer in the circle of his arms, snuggling close against him. The feeling of warmth and security expanded and seemed to fill him up, muffling everything else like the comforting protection of a favorite blanket in his own bed, “See?” Adam murmured, low and sweet, “What am I feeling right now?”

Caleb scooted down in the bed, heedless of the way his feet hung off the bottom of the mattress. He cuddled Adam close, nuzzling their cheeks together and allowing himself to be consumed by the feeling “...Safe.” He whispered after a moment, breathing deep, wanting to fill his chest with the scent of Adam and the sense of his well-being, “You feel safe.”

He could feel Adam’s smile against his face, “Exactly. You make me feel safe, Caleb.”

When guilt unfurled in Caleb’s chest this time, he knew it was his own, “But… Adam, I want you to feel safe with— fuck, I want you to  _ be _ safe and  _ feel  _ safe, always.” he curled in on himself a little, tucking his face down into the welcoming heat at the crook of Adam’s neck, “But I… I failed. I was supposed to protect you, be your superhero, but I  _ failed _ .”

“Caleb,” Adam cooed, one hand petting sweetly over his hair, “You didn’t fail. And you’re not a superhero, you’re my boyfriend. My wonderful, loyal, too brave for his own fucking good boyfriend.” Adam pressed a kiss to the side of Caleb’s head, “You tried, and I’m just so glad you didn’t get  _ hurt _ . I mean, you broke through his ability and hit him until he—”

Realization struck Caleb, “Oh shit,  _ Mark! _ ” he exclaimed, pulling back to look at Adam.

“Mark?” Adam repeated.

“It-it wasn’t Damien that pushed me back that night!” Caleb explained, “It was  _ Mark  _ using Damien's ability! He stopped me from hurting him, from…”  _ killing him. _ Caleb couldn’t bring himself to say it. They both knew it.

“Wow,” Adam said, following Caleb’s deduction, “Do you think he might actually… I don’t know, love Damien too?”

“Maybe,” Caleb said, not sure how to feel about it, “Or he might just have not wanted me to kill him.”

“Maybe, yeah,” Adam conceded, but he seemed reluctant to drop it, “But do you think…?”

Caleb groaned, “I think being Atypical makes love way more complicated,” he answered and tucked his face back into Adam’s shoulder. Adam was feeling safe. He was feeling sad. He was feeling hopeful, guilty, curious, nervous. Caleb felt like a voyeur for knowing, and his voice came out small when he asked, “Would you want it?”

“Want what?”

Caleb swallowed the lump that had risen in his throat, “Your aunt’s stuff… to make you immune to Atypicals? So my ability couldn’t be a problem?”

Surprise, more guilt, concern, “Hell no! Caleb, I would never—” Adam drew back so he could see Caleb’s face, “Your ability isn’t a problem!”

Caleb shrugged one shoulder, unconvinced, “You wouldn’t have pushed me away if you weren't worried about me feeling all your private stuff.” he pointed out.

“Maybe,” Adam said, pushing Caleb’s hair from his brow and cupping his jaw, “Or maybe I would have pushed you away anyway, and you wouldn't have been able to feel what a mess I was, and you wouldn’t have known how much I still loved you even with me acting like a big fucking idiot about it.” Love and sincerity were surging powerfully from him and then his mouth covered Caleb’s suddenly, and he was kissing him with sweet, urgent intent. His mouth was all softness and wetness and warmth, a conduit for the love that he was pouring into Caleb, all blue and green and gorgeous. It was perfect, truly perfect, no room for it to improve, no need for it to change. When Adam broke the kiss, he asked against Caleb’s lips, “Do you feel that, Caleb? How much I love you, just exactly the way you are?”

Caleb grinned, “I dunno if I caught it that time. Could you show me again?”

Adam chuckled and rolled his eyes, but he made no complaint about giving Caleb another demonstration. He kissed him just as sweetly, sweeter even, smiling into it when Caleb remembered how to kiss back. After a while floating in the perfect green sea, one of Adam’s hands scraped up the nape of Caleb’s neck into his hair and he moaned softly. The sound woke up the butterflies in Adam’s belly and Caleb’s followed suit. 

Adam’s feelings of warm, cozy love and safety remained but they expanded, the heat and fizzly tension of arousal taking root more patiently than it had in the car earlier. Caleb’s arms pulled Adam in at the same moment that he wriggled closer on the narrow twin bed. One of his thighs slotted between Caleb’s, and the emotional empathic arousal crystallized into physical arousal as their hips slid naturally together. A small ‘mm’ of approval moved from Adam’s mouth onto Caleb’s tongue and he moaned in response, nothing had ever tasted better.

Satisfaction, confidence, power. Adam had felt those emotions when things had escalated between them before. It always surprised and aroused Caleb to know that Adam felt that way about having an effect on him, and it was only more true now after wading through all the ways in which Adam was feeling conflicted and powerless and at odds with himself. Adam wanted him, and relished knowing he was wanted in return. He rolled his hips against Caleb’s and Caleb moaned again. He was so hard and he didn’t know right now where his desire ended and Adam’s began. He met Adam’s thrust with his own, and when they pressed together through their pants, he shuddered so much that he broke their kiss, “ _ Adam. _ ” he sighed.

A flare of white hot desire through Adam at hearing the need Caleb imbued into his own name, “Shit, Caleb,” he said, leaning up on one elbow and tracing Caleb’s jaw with his soft lips, “You’re so, so, so…” words failed him and he scraped his teeth against the skin beneath Caleb’s ear instead.

Caleb keened, “ _ Fuck _ ,” he panted brokenly, head spinny and orgasm frustratingly unbelievably close thanks to the double-dose of teenage arousal in his body, “Need you,” he said, pushing Adam’s hoodie off his shoulders and down his arms, “Need to feel more of you, babe.”

“Yeah, yes,” Adam sighed against his chin, feeling a surge of pleasure at being so wanted, chilly fingers tugging at the hem of Caleb’s shirt. Caleb sat up partway to allow the fabric to be stripped away, “ _ Fuck, fuck _ ,” Adam swore to himself and Caleb preened slightly at the hunger Adam felt at the sight of his bared physique. His expression must have given him away because Adam chuckled, “Shut up, you know you’re hot.”

“I know I’m hot  _ for youuu, _ ” Caleb teased, nuzzling his face into his neck as his hands fumbled to untuck Adam’s t-shirt from his jeans. Adam’s giggle broke off in a sharp gasp, and the heady lovesick arousal was swallowed up suddenly by pain, surprise, shame, embarrassment. Caleb jerked back immediately, as if Adam had screamed, which to an empath he may as well have done, “Whoa, are you okay? What’s wrong? What did I do?”

“Wrong? What? Me? I-I’m okay, I’m fine, I’m great,” Adam lied, his hands curling too tightly in the fabric of his t-shirt, “I’m, heh, hot for you, yeah.”

Caleb frowned down at him, his own arousal as gone as if he had been doused in ice water, “Ad-am, don’t do that,” Adam avoided Caleb’s gaze and just continued clutching his shirt. Caleb wondered if… 

He plucked at the fabric between Adam’s hands and Adam tugged it down harder, desperate to keep it in place, “Caleb, please,” Adam pleaded, eyes gone wide and a little wild. He was feeling desperate, cornered, and so,  _ so _ ashamed.

“Let me see.” Caleb said firmly.

Adam shook his head, “N-no, please. Th-this is me not consenting.”

Caleb frowned, “Seriously? A second ago you were tearing my clothes off.”

“That’s not how consent works and you know it.” Adam pointed out stubbornly, “I can change my mind.”

“Yeah, I do know,” Caleb said, his words running away from him as Adam’s panic and his own began to bleed together, “And I totally respect your right to change your mind but I also know that that has nothing to do with this. I’m not asking you to take your shirt off in a sex way anymore, I’m asking as your friend and boyfriend who is going a little crazy right now thinking that you might have some horrible infected injury that you’ve been hiding since you were with Damien, and you were just gonna hide it and let it fester until you went crazy and died like that French guy we learned about in Global last year, and—”

“Shut up!” Adam hissed, “I don’t, are— do you mean Louis the Great? I don’t have fucking gangrene, Caleb, Jesus Christ!”

“Well, awesome, glad to hear it,” Caleb babbled, “Now please, just tell me what’s going on because you’re like, really  _ really _ freaking out—”

“So are you, Caleb!” Adam’s voice cut shrilly through Caleb’s panic.

“Y-you’re right,” Caleb said, trying in vain to cool down, “Sorry, I’m sorry, I just… please, Adam, we said no secrets, didn’t we? I know that was like,  _ fuck _ , I mean, it feels like a lifetime ago. But it’s still true. If we’re doing this thing, we’re doing it right, and I can’t stand you hiding any more of your pain from me. Okay?”

Adam was terrified. He was terrified and ashamed, lying on his back and looking up at Caleb like a deer in headlights. He gnawed his lower lip and for the space of an awful second, Caleb thought the wall was going to come down between them again, that he had finally pushed too much too far and Adam was about to ask him to leave and he wasn’t going to be invited back. But then Adam shut his eyes, let out a sharp exhale from his nose and pulled his t-shirt up to his sternum.

Caleb didn’t mean to gasp, but he couldn’t help it. He was halfway braced to see some horrible gangrenous wound, even despite Adam’s denial. And it wasn’t nearly as bad as that, but it still pained him just to see it, though some of that was Adam’s pain at having to bare it. There were cuts on the brown skin of Adam’s stomach, small straight lines following no apparent pattern, “What did he—?” he began to demand, before his mind caught up with him. Some of the cuts were dark and scabbed, but a couple were still red, too-red,  _ recent _ red. More recent than Adam’s return home, “What happened?” he asked instead.

Adam whined, “Are you going to make me say it, really?”

“Um, yeah, I think I am,” Caleb said, his protective anger really not doing him any fucking good right now but insisting on taking the wheel all the same, “What happened? Who did this to you?”

Adam heaved a sigh, “I did, Caleb.” he said wearily, all shame now.

For a second, Caleb’s brain couldn’t begin to interpret that answer, and then it clicked, “You hurt yourself?” he asked, his tone softening into aching disbelief.

“Yeah.” Adam confirmed, eyes still shut tight.

“You, but…” Caleb said stupidly, wishing he could stop looking at the cuts on Adam’s skin. He would have destroyed anything that dared hurt Adam, but what the hell was he supposed to do with that impulse, when the person who had hurt Adam was Adam himself?

“I-I used to,” Adam stammered out, his voice small, “I used to and I stopped before... before we were friends.”

“What?” Caleb asked, “You did?”

Adam nodded stiffly and Caleb ached with his pain, with his embarrassment, “When things got really bad, I would—” Adam finally opened his eyes, the dark of them shining too wetly and yet dull and guarded. He pointed to one of the only other marks on his stomach, a long scar below his belly button, “Well, you know th-this one?”

“You said you got that falling off your bike.” Caleb said, his voice strained.

“Yeah,” Adam didn’t meet his eyes, “I-I lied. I was, it was— I messed up that time. Really badly,” Caleb could feel the emotion of the memory, panic, fear, embarrassment, “Most of the time I was careful, you know, just little cuts here and there, but that time I got— I got a bit carried away and, well, I had to go to the hospital.”

Caleb’s heart was doing that tight-crushy-heartbreak thing again, “Carried away?” he repeated, feeling a little sick at the blasé wording.

Adam squirmed, “My parents have never looked at me the same way. They made me do, like, a rehab thing for a few weeks.”

Caleb hadn’t taken a ton of notice of Adam before they’d become friends, but he thought he’d remember at least hearing it go through the rumor mill if  _ anyone _ had been out of school for a few weeks, “When— wait, when was this?” he asked.

“Two years ago,” Adam said, flatly, “Over the summer,” a small headshake, “No one at school knows about it.”

Caleb felt a wave of guilt, an ache at Adam’s friendlessness before him, “Adam, I’m so sorry—”

Another, firmer headshake, “There's nothing you could have done.”

“And your parents, they think you stopped?” Caleb frowned, face scrunching, “How did I not  _ notice _ —?”

“No, I did stop,” he said, “After that time, I got too scared to. Until…” that distrust in himself feeling snaked its way back into Adam’s feelings, wrapping around him like a boa constrictor.

“Until now,” Caleb said, understanding, “Until Damien.”

The tears that had been standing in Adam’s eyes, finally brimmed over, “I-I just  _ couldn’t _ ,” he said, as if pleading his case, “It’s been s-so much. Different than before and, and, and I never  _ wanted to die _ —”

Pure terror flooded Caleb. He knew the feeling, it had snuck up on him at times while Adam was missing, the terror that accompanied the very thought of a world that didn’t have Adam Hayes in it, “But you do now?” he could feel tears stabbing at his own eyes as he begged, “Adam,  _ no _ , you, you, please—”

Guilt, frustration, mutating into desperation and hysteria as Adam cut across him, “No, no no,  _ please,  _ I don’t, I don't think I want to die,” he blubbered, tears flowing freely now,  _ “Please, Caleb,  _ don't look at me like that, like  _ them _ , like you pity me, like you're afraid, like you’re d-disgusted—”

“No, Adam, no,” Caleb reassured, tugging one of Adam’s hands away from where it was wound tight in his t-shirt, lacing their fingers and squeezing reassuringly, “Of course I’m not disgusted, I’m not any of those things, I couldn’t, I just— why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“ _ This! _ ” Adam gestured at him with his free hand, “This, I-I didn’t want you to  _ hate  _ me.”

It broke Caleb’s heart that Adam could even say it, “I could never hate you, Adam, never.  _ Never. _ ”

“But you’ll never see me the same way, you’ll—” Caleb didn’t let Adam finish the sentence, he might not understand exactly how Adam’s feelings had motivated him to hurt himself, now or in the past, but he knew what was in his own heart.

“Do you know what I see?” he asked gently.

Adam gave a watery laugh, full of self-loathing, “C-crazy, pathetic, weak—”

“That might be what  _ you  _ see, but it’s not what I see,” Caleb said, bringing Adam’s knuckles to his lips and kissing each one softly, “I see bravery—”

Adam scoffed, “How is this—?”

“You keep going, Adam. No matter how much it hurts,” he pressed his cheek to Adam’s hands, “I can feel what you feel but I still can’t know what it’s like to hurt so much, not really. And this,” as lightly as he could, Caleb touched Adam’s stomach, careful not to actually touch the cuts themselves, “It’s not a perfect solution,” he frowned a little, “Not a good solution, but it’s a solution you found to keep living and I’m so fucking grateful. Because I want, I  _ need _ you to keep making that choice to keep living,” he blinked back the tears stinging in his eyes, “I want to help you find a better way, but I’m so proud of you for being so fucking brave and so fucking strong—”

“Strong?” Adam scoffed, “If I was strong it wouldn't be so heavy.”

“Of course it would,” Caleb countered, “Anything’s heavy if you carry it alone.”

“God, you’re so corny,” Adam rolled his eyes with a watery laugh.

“I love you.” Caleb responded, his fingers still trailing along Adam’s stomach.

“I don’t want to drag you down.” Adam said, barely louder than a whisper.

“You don’t,” Caleb shook his head, “You couldn’t. I’ll keep telling you that until you believe me.”

“I might not,” Adam said, meeting Caleb’s gaze for the first time since he’d lifted his shirt, “I might not ever know how to believe it, Caleb.”

“That’s okay, too,” Caleb promised, “I’ll keep explaining it ‘til you’re really sick of hearing it; I love you. And loving you means that you’re not a burden. No matter how heavy your stuff gets, it won’t weigh me down.” Adam’s dark eyes were liquid love, cautiously wishing he could take Caleb’s words to heart. He winced slightly as Caleb’s thumb brushed one of the newer cuts, “Shit, do you want me to stop touching them?”

Adam’s gaze shuttered again, a slicing rejection behind his ribs, a gnawing feeling of ugliness that Caleb couldn’t stand for, “I don’t blame you if you want to…”

Caleb leaned down over Adam, pressing a soft kiss to the long scar Adam had pointed to earlier, right where it was thickest, “I can feel all your insecurity, and doubt, and honestly, for someone so smart, you can be so stupid,” he shook his head slightly as he dropped two more kisses on the scar, “Nothing could make me want you or love you less, Adam. Nothing.”

“Caleb,” Adam said, his heart bare on his tongue, “I don’t deserve it.”

“You do,” Caleb promised, looking up at Adam’s face, his lips still pressed to the delicate skin of his stomach, “I never finished telling you what I see when I look at you, did I?” He trailed kisses along the length of the long scar as he spoke, “Brave and strong, yeah, but that’s not all. Kind, so kind. But not just kind, but, but  _ good _ . Noble,” he settled on the word as he departed from the long white scar and kissed a smaller one just below Adam’s bottom left rib, “The way you stand up for what you believe in?” he huffed an exhale and Adam sucked in a breath at the way the air cooled against his wet skin. 

He squirmed slightly as Caleb’s mouth returned to the ticklish skin of his soft abdomen, “When you’re in your element, you’re so passionate, it makes me think you could save the fucking world single-handed.” He could feel the first glimmering, fluttering, coiling of arousal in Adam and it was making it harder for him to keep track of his words, his own feelings mirroring Adam’s, “And, and if anyone could save the world, I-I mean, you’ve certainly got the brains for it. Brilliant— so  _ fucking _ brilliant, you say I’m smart and I know I am, but you’re  _ so much _ smarter than me, smart in ways I can only see from the sidelines and, and, like, god, fucking  _ admire, _ ” Caleb scraped his teeth over the jut of Adam’s hipbone and sent a rush of hot desire into Adam, which sent it into him. Adam’s hips were squirming slightly now, impatient, seeking friction. It made Caleb light-headed as he continued to wax lyrical, Adam’s skin hotter and more responsive under his mouth than a moment before, “You’re just you, you don’t try to, to be what anyone else would— you’re an individual. Individual...istic? That’s a word, I think. What’s the one?” he tried to remember as Adam gasped at Caleb’s tongue dipping into his navel, “Singular,” Caleb sighed, “You’re singular.” 

He looked up at Adam through his lashes, at the blush in his dark cheeks, the adoring heat in his dark shining eyes, the way his half-bared chest rose and fell with labored breath, “Beautiful,” he proclaimed breathlessly, dizzy with the emotionally amplified lust cycling through their bodies and minds, “So fucking beautiful inside and out, Adam, you drive me crazy,” he couldn’t seem to stop the words now, “I just, I just want to kiss every inch of you, even the scars, especially the scars, especially the parts you don’t love because I need to love them double for both of us,” Adam whimpered, all love and raw vulnerability and desire that seemed to amplify with every word Caleb said. He watched the panting breath between Adam’s parted lips and the soft lidded beauty of his eyes and the words kept spilling out of him, “And I, fuck, it makes no sense, but I want to kiss all your feelings, even the ones you don’t like or don’t want or can’t understand, Adam,  _ oh my god. _ ” 

He cut himself off, caught off guard when he almost fucking  _ came _ just from feeling what Adam was feeling, which was a little much even for him. He knew he was hard, he had been since that first stirring of want from Adam, but it was all hurtling so fast and his head spun with it, “Caleb, oh my god,” Adam panted, “Are you...okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just a lot,” Caleb said, “You’re really turned on, which means I’m really turned on, plus I think I would be anyway, so—”

“Sorry,” Adam apologized, teasing shakily, “You know how I get about poetry.”

“That wasn’t  _ poetry, _ ” Caleb countered, “That was just me just totally word-vomiting about how I’m kinda, like, really fucking in love with you.”

“I’m really fucking in love with you, too,” Adam said, a mischievous twinkle in his feelings as he said, “Aaaand we’re both really turned on and have an empty house and we already covered before that we understand the basics of consent and—”

“Okay, I know you’re just being an idiot right now,” Caleb said, forcing himself to resist the urge to lick the peach fuzz of Adam’s happy trail again and derail what was an important conversation, “But for real, what you want is important. And I know your stuff is kinda scrambled right now, so even if we’re both, ya know, I get it if you don’t know, or if you don’t want—”

“I want you, Caleb.” Adam groaned and fuck, if Caleb couldn’t come just hearing that.

“ _ Fucking, _ I want you, too. Like, a lot.”

“Well, I’m okay,” Adam said. Caleb quirked a brow, “Okay, maybe not, but I’m okay to consent. I know what I want and it’s  _ you _ , Caleb. Like… now-ish.”

Caleb huffed an affectionate chuckle, “Now-ish? I love when you get bossy.”

“I know you do.” Adam smirked and he felt such warm love, all green and gooey and good.

“Can I—” the request tried jumping out of Caleb’s mouth before he’d even known it was there. But, fuck, he’d hardly been able to stop thinking about what it had felt like when Adam had… “Do you want me to try sucking you?”

Caleb felt the spike in Adam’s want and the involuntary thrust of his hips before Adam verbalized, “God,  _ yes _ , yes, definitely, if you want to.”

“I want to.” Caleb confirmed with a smile. He gave Adam’s hand a squeeze before taking back his hand to unfasten Adam’s belt, flick open the button, unzip the fly of his jeans. His heart was in his throat and his cock was about as hard as it had ever been. He could feel Adam’s anticipation, his nerves, the insecurities still lingering around the edges. 

“Wait!” Adam exclaimed as Caleb’s hands wrapped around the waistband of his jeans to tug them down. He stilled, pulling back his hands, feeling some of Adam’s shame from earlier rise up again.

“We don’t have to, Adam,” Caleb reassured, “We don’t have to do—”

“No! I, I want to,” Adam smiled crookedly, nervously, “I  _ really _ want to. I just…” he took a deep breath, “I wanted to warn you. There’s… there’s more cuts on, on my legs.”

“Oh,” Caleb said, unsure of what to say to that, “Oh, okay.”

Adam wrinkled his nose, “It doesn’t weird you out?”

“No, Adam,” Caleb shook his head, “It makes me kinda sad, I guess. I don’t like things hurting you, including you. But it doesn’t weird me out,” he tried at a joke, “Did you listen to all my poetic word-vomit before or not?”

“Your mouth got a little distracting at some points.” Adam said with a sly smile and reminded Caleb of the task that was at hand and how very badly he wanted to do it.

“Do you still want me to…?” he asked, just to be safe.

“Yeah,” Adam said, eyes glazing a little, “Yes, definitely.”

“Okay, then.” Caleb said, and resumed pulling Adam’s jeans down past his hips. As Adam had said, doing so revealed some cuts on the tops of his thighs. Not a lot of them, but enough of them to make Caleb’s heart ache, enough to make him long to soothe away the pain Adam had been carrying alone. Even if he couldn’t fix it, even if he could never fix it, at least he could split the difference and bring some pleasure.

Adam’s erection was visible through his black boxer briefs, and Caleb could feel how much he liked the view, liked seeing him between his legs. When Caleb’s hand covered him, felt the flesh hard and hot through the fabric, their breath caught in tandem. This was nothing they hadn’t done before, this was almost familiar. Dry-humping and petting through clothes was a line they had first crossed a long time ago, in a different life it seemed. Apart from last summer, though, this was the longest they’d ever refrained from intimacy and that only added fuel to the fire of the heady emotions that flowed through them.

Caleb stroked Adam slowly through his underwear, watching the way his eyelashes fluttered, sharing in the feeling of it. It was a peculiar thing, the way his empathy played out in the sexual arena. It wasn’t as if he could feel the actual  _ sensation _ , there was no illusion of a hand on his own dick, but he could feel the anticipation, the relief, the need, and the overwhelming trust and love. A whine escaped the back of his throat at it all as his fingers curled over the elastic waist of Adam’s boxer briefs. Their eyes met and with a small private nod from Adam and obliging lift of his butt off the bed, Caleb slipped the garment down, careful not to let it chafe against any of the cuts on Adam’s legs. He guided the jeans and underwear down Adam’s legs and off his feet before dropping them unceremoniously on the floor.

He turned his full attention back to Adam, to the gorgeous and very hard dick that was waiting for him to make good on an offer he wasn’t entirely sure how to fulfill. Well, he  _ knew _ how a fucking blowjob worked, obviously, but it wasn’t like he had ever given one. He wasn’t even quite an expert in receiving them. He could feel Adam’s desire, his eagerness, his self-consciousness, but most of all he could feel his love. It was washing over him in steady, strong even waves, like the ocean lapping at the shore as he had once described it to Dr. Bright a lifetime ago. Caleb focused on the love and that made it easier.

Without even really meaning too, he emulated what Adam had done. God knew he’d fucking pictured it enough times to imitate it. He licked his palm, maybe a bit more shyly than Adam had done, but not everyone could be so shamelessly sexy. The effect must’ve looked okay all the same, judging by the way Adam’s arousal intensified at the sight. Caleb gave him a wobbly smirk, drawn back into Adam’s magnetic gaze again as he wrapped his wet hand around him.

“ _ Caleb _ ,” Adam sighed encouragingly, and Caleb’s smile and touch found some confidence. He stroked Adam, finding the particular rhythm and twist that he had learned, drawing the first of those delicious little gasps from Adam, the ones he couldn’t help thinking about when he touched himself these days. He bet Adam would find that hot, maybe he’d find the spine to tell him one of these days.

Not right now. He had other more urgent priorities. Really, he would have liked to take his time with this, but he already felt like he might explode any second and he didn’t want to risk throwing them off their rhythm like he had a few times in the past. Admittedly, it wasn’t the orgasming that had thrown them off so much as him freaking out and apologizing and getting embarrassed, but all the same. As much as Adam seemed to be enjoying the handjob he was receiving (and he seemed to be enjoying it  _ a lot _ ), it was not a handjob that he had been promised.

Caleb didn’t know how to  _ start _ . He wanted to,  _ fuck, _ did he want to. He wanted his mouth on Adam, all over Adam, he wanted to taste him, to feel him… but where to  _ start _ ? After too long deliberating (and getting sidetracked listening to Adam’s gasps and watching the beautiful expressions of pleasure on his face), Caleb finally found his nerve and just went for it. Still cupping him gently in his hand, Caleb ducked down and licked, dragging the flat of his tongue up the underside of Adam’s cock.

It was like lighting a sparkler, the feeling of pleasure and giddy excitement that it ignited in Adam. He propped himself up on his elbows, unambiguously wanting to get a better view. Caleb could feel the admiration he was feeling, knew how good he looked to Adam. A lot of the time feeling that made him sort of nervous, but just then he found that it emboldened him. He licked Adam again, and again, and on the third time experimentally sort of wrapped his tongue around it as he reached the tip. The feeling like a sparkler fizzed brighter and Adam moaned, and Caleb just did what felt right.

He kissed him. He kissed the smooth head, pursing his lips wetly around it, surprised and thrilled by the taste of what he realized had to be pre-cum. He couldn’t spare it much of a thought, honestly, not with the way Adam’s pleasure was galloping through him. It made him bolder still, and he finally found the bravery to just  _ do it _ . He wrapped his mouth around Adam and sucked, lightly at first and a little harder when he felt how  _ good _ it was. He wasn’t sure what to do with his tongue, but when it accidentally brushed the underside of the head, Adam moaned in a way Caleb hadn’t heard before, and he felt the sheer pleasure of it, shining and blazing. He did it again. And again and again.

He kind of lost himself in it, immersed in Adam’s emotions and in the heady taste and smell of him. When he lowered his head and took more of Adam, he was a little surprised to discover just how much he savored the weight of his dick on his tongue. Caleb had no idea how much time had passed, it could have been seconds or hours. All that existed to him was sensation and emotion, and he wasn’t sure where the border lay between Adam and himself. His own cock was almost painfully hard, trapped between his body and the mattress, leaking and twitching in his pants in time with every wave of Adam’s pleasure. Adam’s fingers twined into his hair and his voice hitched, and he realized that he had been moaning around Adam’s dick as it moved in and out of his mouth, and he didn’t know when he’d started.

“ _ Oh my god _ , Caleb,” Adam whined hoarsely, “It’s so, shit, you’re so good.” Caleb glowed with the praise, whimpering involuntarily at receiving it. The pressure in his groin was almost more than he could take and he shifted his weight, in doing so discovering what a relief it was to hump the mattress. Of course, it didn’t escape Adam’s notice, and he bucked up slightly into Caleb’s mouth with a palpable surge in his arousal, “S-sorry,” he said absently, fingers buried in Caleb’s hair, “It’s, that’s so hot, fuck. Are- Caleb, are you close?” Caleb nodded as best he could without breaking the uneven rhythm with which he was sucking Adam. 

Adam hissed, “Shit,  _ shit, _ that’s… that’s really hot,” he watched Caleb for a moment, watched his mouth moving on and off of his slick cock, watched his ass as he rubbed himself against the bed. Caleb would be embarrassed, he must look kind of ridiculous and needy, but Adam  _ loved it _ , he could feel it. He was getting off on watching and Caleb thought it might be more than him finding his boyfriend hot. The fact that he was so horny he was getting off like this, that he was making himself look maybe a little ridiculous… If Caleb thought about it too much right now, within the feedback loop, it’d hurt his head or freak him out so he stopped trying to understand and just went back to enjoying it. He moaned with a particularly stimulating thrust against the mattress, swirling his tongue against the head of Adam’s cock. 

Adam moaned and it doubled in Caleb, piling on top of his own pleasure, “You really like sucking me that much?” Adam asked, and  _ God _ , Caleb didn’t think it would ever get old, seeing this boy who so many clueless fucks mistook for a mild-mannered dork be so shameless and sexy and direct. He moaned in the affirmative and took Adam deeper than he had, feeling him nudge the back of his throat and gagging slightly, “Oh god,  _ yes…  _ or, or do you just like how my feelings feel while you’re sucking me?” Caleb took him deep again, trembling slightly as he slipped inevitably towards his own climax, “Oh, Caleb, yeah, yeah, like that,” Caleb sped up, undeterred by the embarrassing slurping noises he was making as he sucked tighter around Adam and took almost all of him into his mouth with each thrust. He moaned around him as his own orgasm shattered over him as Adam’s hand tightened in his hair as he panted out, “Yes, yes, Caleb, I’m, I’m,  _ I’m!” _

Caleb cried out as Adam’s orgasm hit him before his own had even passed, feeling every cell of him seem to flare too bright in an instant of shared ecstasy. Adam’s climax flooded his tongue but he hardly registered the taste being not as bad as people made it out to be, there was too much,  _ too much good _ trying to fit into his body at once. He swallowed reflexively before letting Adam’s softening dick slip from his mouth, breathing hard and trying to find his center. It wasn’t a bad feeling, being so unmoored in double orgasm, probably plenty of people would kill for it, but Caleb felt unmoored and out of his depth. He heard Adam saying his name and he tried to respond but he didn’t think he managed more than a whimper. The mattress shifted, springs squeaking, and for a terrible second he thought that Adam was leaving, but no, of course not. Because then Adam was  _ there _ , right there, his face right in front of Caleb’s, his hands delicately cupping Caleb’s cheeks. And Caleb was green, everything was green, and he smiled at Adam, who felt a little worried but smiled back, “... okay? Hello in there? Earth to meathead?”

“Meathead to ground control, do you read me, dork?” Caleb said, his mouth was a little achey in unexpected places and he maybe garbled some of it.

Caleb snorted, “You can say  _ that _ , but you can’t answer me when I ask if you’re okay?”

“I’m okay,” Caleb grinned, “I’m fucking  _ green _ .”

Adam’s feelings softened so beautifully, “Wow, I’ve never seen double-afterglow get you this punch-drunk before.”

“Was at the same time,” Caleb explained.

Adam’s eyes widened, “Really?” Caleb nodded and Adam went a bit smug and cocky, smirking, “Cool.” he said and then leaned in and kissed Caleb softly on lips that it turned out were a little sore, “Really, though, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Caleb reassured, returning to himself a little as they both came down from the high, “Promise, I am. I was just…” he could feel his cheeks flush at how little shame he’d had in the heat of their pure lust.

“So fucking stupidly sexy that sometimes I wonder if you were made in some kind of Atypical test tube just to tempt every kink I didn’t know I had?” Adam supplied.

It surprised a belly laugh from Caleb, “Not what I was gonna say, but I guess I can’t confirm or deny that,” he waggled his eyebrows, “Discovering kinks, huh?”

Adam shrugged, “Maybe,” he said. His hand petted Caleb’s cheek sweetly, “I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, and Caleb could feel the echo of his concern, “I thought I broke you.”

“I’m sorry I worried you,” Caleb said, nuzzling their noses together, “It must have been scary to think you broke your stupidly sexy boyfriend with your very manly dick.”

Caleb snorted and shoved his shoulder, “You’re an idiot,” he beamed, “I love you so much.”

“I love you so much, too,” Caleb tried to soak up all the love, all the sweetness, and lazy sated ease to hold onto in the moments that were sure to come when things were hard and confusing again. That was exhausting to even think about and he yawned.

“Oh no,” Adam said, sitting up suddenly, “No, no, we’re not wasting this time by napping.”

“Naps are  _ not _ a waste of time.” Caleb disagreed, affronted at the very notion.

“A fair point, but we have the house to ourselves and a lot of boyfriending to catch up on,” Caleb couldn’t help it, he perked up at that and Adam grinned at him knowingly as he climbed out of the bed and slipped into a pair of flannel pajama pants that had been draped over his desk chair.

“Boyfriending, huh?” Caleb asked, basking in Adam’s sweet blue happiness. There was more, there was worry and anxiety aplenty beneath the surface, but it was happiness all the same, even if it was complicated. Maybe happiness was usually complicated, most feelings were.

“Yep,” Adam said, “I’m gonna go sort out snacks while you clean yourself up,” a shimmer of smugness again, of titillation at the circumstances that had led to the jizz in Caleb’s pants, “Then we’re going to squeeze back into that bed and put on something stupid to watch, and maybe we’ll do what we just did again.”

Caleb raised an eyebrow, “Eager.”

“Eager to see if I can do that better than you just did.” Adam teased and Caleb didn’t quite keep from shivering.

“I know we’re both new to the sex thing,” Caleb said, “But I don’t think it’s a competition.”

“Maybe,” Adam shrugged, calling back as he left the room, “Or maybe I’m gonna  _ win _ .”

“I was designed in a lab to tempt your kinks!” Caleb called after him.

“Probably!” Adam called back, a laugh in his voice. As he reached the kitchen, he hovered just around the edge of Caleb’s empathy range. He crossed the hall to the bathroom and dampened a washcloth to clean himself up. He ditched the boxers as they had caught all the mess, washing them in the sink, wringing them out, and stuffing them in his pocket and rocking his joggers commando. He dropped the soiled washcloth in the hamper in the corner and considered his reflection for a second before closing his eyes and trying to do one of the mindfulness exercises that Dr. Bright had taught him. Being so thoroughly tangled up with so many intense and conflicting feelings for so long had left him feeling a little wrung out and exhausted, but as he focused on his own feelings, a sense of optimism took center field. Things were  _ a mess _ , but he felt like nothing was unsalvageable now. He and Adam were going to stick together and find a way through this.

He felt Adam’s approach, mostly happiness with some uncertainty and sadness underneath, “Hi,” he greeted a second before Adam came into view, laden with a variety of snacks. He laughed at the sight, “Hungry?”

“Bold of you to assume I hadn’t accounted for the black hole that is your stomach,” Adam parried, “We both know you’ll eat most of this.”

“I’m a growing boy.” Caleb teased, taking a tupperware full of cookies and a bowl of green grapes from Adam, allowing him to better balance the bag of baby carrots, two bags of microwave popcorn, and bottles of water in his arms. 

Back in Adam’s room, they piled onto the bed and fidgeted about seeking the ideal position, ultimately settling on their usual, Caleb propped against the pillows with Adam between his legs. Caleb grabbed Adam’s laptop from the desk and was about to ask Adam what they should watch, when Adam spoke first, “Thank you.” he said.

“You’re welcome?” Caleb said, handing him the computer but assuming from the nerves Adam was feeling that he wasn’t talking about the laptop.

“For sticking around. For wanting to deal with me. For loving me.” Adam shrugged, “For all of it.”

“Thank you for letting me, Adam,” Caleb said, putting the laptop down on the bed beside them and hugging Adam, “You could have told me to get lost, and I would have had to respect your wishes or whatever, even if I knew it wasn’t what you really felt. Thank you for letting me stay.”

“Thanks for wanting to.” Adam twisted in his lap to return the hug, and for a long moment they just sat there together, entwined, hearts beating in time, imperfect and in love, “You keep me green, too.” Adam said, muffled into Caleb’s shirt, but it was like the words passed directly into his chest where they settled like sugared sunlight on green leaves.

“Adam…” he said softly.

“No, you do,” Adam said, “I don’t have your ability, so it’s like I can’t see it as easily. Like being color-blind, maybe. But that’s what it is, I think, that’s what I feel. Green.”

Caleb smiled softly, “It’s a good feeling, isn’t it?” he asked, confidentially.

“The best.” Adam agreed and Caleb felt the green truth of it fill him up until he couldn’t help but kiss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!!


End file.
